V 


THE   SWORD   OF   JUSTICE 


THE 


SWORD  OF  JUSTICE 

BY 

SHEPPARD    STEVENS 
Author  of  "7  am   the  King"    etc. 


BOSTON 

LITTLE,  BROWN,  AND  COMPANY 
1899 


Copyright,  1899, 
BY  LITTLE,  BROWN,  AND  COMPANY. 

A  U  rights  reserved. 


SBtatbersttg  ?fress: 
JOHN  WILSON  AND  SON,  CAMBRIDGE,  U.S.A. 


2T0  tfje  fflratorg 

OF 
ONE  WHO  BEING  DEAD  YET   SPEAKETH 


2062G07 


PREFACE 

THERE  is,  I  think,  no  period  in  the  early  history 
of  America  which  presents  a  more  romantic  set 
of  incidents  for  the  pen  of  a  story-writer  than 
the  struggle  between  the  French  and  Spanish 
for  the  possession  of  Florida,  the  bald  recital  of 
facts  reading  more  like  romance  than  history. 
With  the  events  into  which  I  have  woven  my 
story,  I  have  taken  no  liberty  beyond  the  slight 
one  of  making  my  hero,  Pierre  Debr6,  twenty 
instead  of  sixteen,  as  he  really  was  at  the  time 
of  Gourgues'  coming.  In  all  else  I  have  kept 
entirely  to  truth.  Debre,  Gourgues,  Perez, 
Satouriona,  Olotoraca,  Athore,  were  all  real 
people,  as  you  may  see  from  Parkman's  fasci- 
nating account  of  this  time.  And  here  let  me 
acknowledge  my  deep  indebtedness  to  this 
writer.  Of  the  seven  sources  from  which  the 
history  of  this  time  is  drawn,  I  was  able  to 
consult  four,  the  others  being  a  private  manu- 
script in  the  Gourgues  family,  and  two  unpub- 
lished documents  in  the  possession  of  the 
Spanish  government.  I  found  that  had  I  con- 


viii  Preface 

tented  myself  with  Mr.  Parkman's  account,  I 
would  have  saved  much  time  and  trouble,  for 
so  thoroughly  has  he  reaped  and  gleaned  the 
field,  that  scarcely  one  poor  fact  escaped  him 
to  pay  me  for  my  labor. 

It  has  been  my  desire  in  this  tale  to  present 
the  more  picturesque  and  less  ferocious  side  of 
the  Indians.  They  seem  to  have  possessed 
many  interesting  customs,  a  few  of  which  I  have 
endeavored  to  depict.  In  the  case  of  the  Indian 
marriage  of  Pierre  and  Eugenie,  I  must  plead 
guilty  to  having  let  imagination  run  away  with 
facts.  The  marriage  customs  among  the  Mus- 
kogees  are  particularly  bald,  being  merely  the 
sending  of  a  suit  of  fine  buckskin  clothing  to 
the  girl.  Upon  this,  a  consultation  is  held 
between  the  girl's  mother,  uncles,  and  aunts, 
her  father  having  no  voice  in  the  matter.  If 
they  decide  to  accept  the  suitor,  the  clothing  is 
retained,  and  he  takes  her  to  his  lodge,  to  remain 
so  long  as  it  pleases  him. 

The  legend  of  the  flood  which  Satouriona 
tells  is  of  Algonquin  origin,  but  I  have  not 
hesitated  to  make  use  of  it,  since  Schoolcraft 
tell  us  that  all  the  tribes  have  this  story  in  one 
form  or  another. 

ST.  Louis,  June  14,  1899. 


The  Sword  of  Justice 


PROLOGUE 


IT  was  the  night  of  September  19,  1565.  For 
several  days  there  had  raged  over  the  northern 
coast  of  Florida  one  of  those  fierce  September 
gales,  accompanied  by  heavy,  driving  rains, 
which  seem  to  threaten  destruction  to  every 
object  rising  above  ground. 

Within  the  flimsy  structure  which  served  as 
quarters  for  the  inhabitants  of  Fort  Carolina, 
those  who  by  reason  of  age,  sex,  or  bodily 
condition  had  been  deemed  unfit  to  join  the 
expedition  of  Ribaut,  huddled  together  in  the 
dryest  spot  afforded  them  by  their  leaking 
shelter,  trembling  as  every  gust  of  wind  vio- 
lently shook  their  poor  building,  like  a  rat  in 
the  jaws  of  an  angry  terrier,  each  moment 
threatening  to  leave  them  entirely  at  the  mercy 
of  the  storm. 

Within  a  small  room  in  the  building  on  the 
north  side  of  the  parade  a  woman  bent  before 
an  open  fireplace,  stirring  something  in  the  pot 


2  The  Sword  of  Justice 

which  hung  from  a  crane  over  the  fitful  blaze. 
Ever  and  anon  a  puff  of  wind  sent  a  cloud  of 
smoke  down  the  rough  chimney,  and  the  ashes, 
with  a  wild  swirl,  flew  hither  and  thither  until 
they  found  a  temporary  resting-place  in  some 
crack  or  crevice.  The  one  tallow  dip  burning 
on  the  table  served  only  to  radiate  a  dim  yellow 
light  within  its  small  circle,  leaving  the  rest  of 
the  room  almost  in  total  darkness,  save  when 
the  flames  in  the  fireplace  leaped  up  to  un- 
usual brightness,  and  sent  flickering  lights 
across  the  rough  ceiling  and  into  the  not  dis- 
tant corners.  Little  pools  here  and  there  on 
the  floor,  and  the  constant  irritating  drip,  drip 
of  falling  water,  told  of  the  insufficiency  of  the 
palmetto  thatch  against  such  a  storm  as  this. 

A  heavier  blast  than  any  which  had  gone 
before,  shook  the  house  and  bellowed  for  a 
moment  in  the  chimney  place.  The  woman 
bending  before  the  fire  paled  and  shuddered, 
nor  did  it  need  the  acrid  biting  of  the  cloud  of 
smoke  which  puffed  in  her  eyes,  to  fill  them  to 
overflowing  with  hot  tears.  She  drew  back, 
coughing  and  choking ;  her  silently  moving  lips 
stopped  for  an  instant  in  their  ceaseless  petition 
to  God. 

From  the  shadow  in  the  corner  another 
figure  began  now  to  take  shape,  as  a  sturdy, 
dark-haired  lad  of  about  seventeen,  with  one 
arm  bandaged  and  carried  in  a  sling,  raised 
himself  impatiently  from  the  wall-bed  and  came 


The  Sword  of  Justice  3 

within  the  dim  circle  of  the  candle  light,  where 
he  seated  himself  on  a  wooden  stool  by  the 
table. 

"Nay,  mother,  it  is  useless,"  he  exclaimed 
impatiently,  "  I  cannot  rest  for  thinking  of  my 
father,  wondering  what  is  befalling  him,  and 
cursing  this  broken  arm,  but  for  which  I  would 
be  at  his  side." 

The  woman  gave  a  sharp  cry  of  pain  as  one 
who  receives  a  sudden  thrust.  Passing  quickly 
to  the  boy's  side  she  gathered  his  head  against 
her  bosom. 

"  Never  speak  so,  Pierre,"  she  cried  almost 
fiercely.  "  Have  you  then  no  care  for  your 
poor  mother's  aching  heart  ?  How  could  I 
bear  this  heavy  night,  had  I  you  to  grieve  for 
as  well  as  your  father?  " 

The  lad  drew  her  hand  against  his  cheek 
with  a  gesture  full  of  gentleness. 

"I  am  always  forgetting,  little  mother,  how 
ill  fitted  you  are  for  a  soldier's  wife  and  a  sol- 
dier's mother.  Nothing  of  the  Spartan  is  in 
your  blood,  I  fear.  Yet  some  day  you  must 
bear  to  see  me  march  forth  at  my  father's  side, 
for  it  is  not  to  be  believed  that  you  would  bid 
me  lay  aside  my  sword,  put  on  a  kirtle,  and 
help  you  in  your  housewifely  duties  ? "  He 
ended  his  assertion  with  a  rising  inflection  of 
the  voice  which  turned  it  into  a  question,  —  a 
question  which  his  anxious,  upraised  eyes  were 
already  asking. 


4  The  Sword  of  Justice 

"  I  know  it  must  be,  I  know  it  must  be,"  the 
woman  almost  wailed,  holding  his  head  even 
closer  as  she  spoke  ;  "  but  God  keep  it  far  off, 
for  I  know  not  yet  how  to  endure  it.  Think  of 
your  father  to-night,  Pierre ;  if  he  escape  the 
dangers  of  this  awful  tempest,  he  hath  yet  to 
encounter  the  Spanish.  Have  we  not  learned 
in  past  days  that  the  wrath  of  God  is  light 
beside  the  fury  of  man?" 

Pierre  was  about  to  answer,  doubtless  to  offer 
her  some  poor  word  of  comfort,  when  the  sound 
of  quick  footfalls  without  caught  his  ear.  In- 
stantly the  door  was  thrust  unceremoniously 
open  to  admit,  together  with  a  gust  of  wind  and 
a  shower  of  blown  drops,  the  sturdy  form  of  a 
Breton  peasant  woman. 

She  slammed  the  door  quickly,  and  having 
shut  out  the  storm,  began  shaking  a  little  of 
the  superfluous  water  from  her  hair  and  person. 
Her  short  blue  skirt  was  well  drenched  on  one 
side,  as  indeed  was  her  bodice,  and  the  white 
chemisette  which  showed  above  it.  Her  long 
full  sleeve  of  white  clung  damply  to  her  arm, 
outlining  its  muscular  strength  sharply  through 
the  wet  cloth.  Her  tall  white  collar,  which 
usually  curved  away  from  the  back  of  her  head 
in  such  pride  of  snowy  stiffness,  lay  now  on  her 
shoulders,  a  limp,  soaked  rag. 

"  Mere  Groton !  you  are  skin  wet  even  from 
your  little  journey.  Is  it  then  so  bad?"  ques- 
tioned the  other  woman,  who  had  left  fondling 


The  Sword  of  Justice  5 

her  boy's  head  and  was  now  offering  her  visitor 
such  help  as  possible  in  shaking  out  and  drying 
her  wet  clothing. 

"  But  yes,  Madame,  the  tempest  is  fearful,  and 
the  covered  passage,  open  as  it  is  against  the 
parade,  gives  little  or  no  shelter,  for  the  wind  is 
whiffling  and  blows  from  all  quarters  of  the 
heavens  at  once.  God  pity  those  at  sea  this 
night ! "  The  peasant  woman  uttered  these 
words  as  if  they  were  torn  from  her  against  her 
will. 

"  Amen,"  whispered  Madame  Debre,  while  the 
eyes  of  both  women  met  and  exchanged  their 
burden  of  sorrowful  foreboding. 

"  Come  anear  the  fire,  Mere  Groton,  it  burns 
but  fitfully,  but  it  will  dry  you  somewhat,  if  the 
heat  of  it  is  not  too  great  for  your  bearing." 

"  Nay,  as  to  that,  Madame,  this  wind  hath  in  it 
a  chill  which  makes  a  bit  of  a  fire  not  unwelcome ; 
but  to  what  use  is  it  that  I  dry  myself,  when  I 
must  even  now  make  the  journey  back  and  turn 
my  other  side  to  the  blast.  I  will  at  least  be 
well  wet  on  both  sides,  and  not  like  a  frying  fish, 
brown  of  one  side  and  raw  of  the  other.  If  you 
have  the  porridge  ready  for  me,  I  '11  be  off  at 
once,  and  see  if  haply  I  can  tempt  the  com- 
mandant to  eat  a  little.  Truly,  Madame,  for  some 
time  past  he  hath  clean  turned  from  my  poor 
cooking,  and  right  thankful  was  I  this  day  for 
your  offer  to  prepare  him  somewhat  for  a 
change.  Nay,  let  me  "  —  and  Mere  Groton,  her 


6  The  Sword  of  Justice 

wooden  sabots  making  a  cheerful  clatter  on 
the  floor,  stepped  briskly  to  the  fireplace  where 
she  deftly  anticipated  Madame  Debr^,  swinging 
the  copper  pot  from  the  crane  and  turning  its 
steaming  contents  into  a  pewter  bowl  set  ready, 
warming. 

"  Say  to  the  commandant  for  me,  good 
mother,  that  I  fear  he  will  have  little  stomach 
for  my  poor  stuff,  after  all.  The  storm  hath  so 
blown  down  the  chimney,  the  porridge  will  have 
scarce  any  flavor  save  that  of  smoke  and  ashes." 

"  Never  fear,  Madame,  it  will  render  his  heart 
comfort,  even  if  it  do  his  stomach  little  good ; 
and  the  fever  hath  left  him  so  little  taste,  I  doubt 
if  he  can  discern  aught  of  the  smoke.  He  hath 
need  of  all  kindness  now,  and  it  wrings  my  heart 
to  see  his  heavy  mood  since  the  coming  of 
Sieur  Ribaut.  He  takes  great  shame  and  sor- 
row to  himself  because  of  the  ill  reports  of  his 
doings  which  have  been  borne  over  the  sea  to 
the  king's  ear.  I  am  sometimes  for  fearing  he 
will  never  live  to  answer  his  Majesty's  recall  and 
appear  before  him  in  France." 

"  Tis  a  foul  shame  that  ill  should  have  gone 
abroad  concerning  your  master,"  said  Pierre, 
speaking  now  for  the  first  time,  a  strong  note  of 
indignation  running  through  his  tone ;  "  Sieur  de 
Loudonniere  hath  proved  himself  in  all  things 
a  just  man  and  a  good  soldier,  and  deserves  ill 
speaking  from  none.  But,  Mere  Groton,  why 
takes  he  this  idle  prating  so  to  heart?  The  Sieur 


The  Sword  of  Justice  7 

Ribaut  hath  seen  the  error  of  these  reports,  and 
greatly  commends  our  commandant,  and  begs 
him,  despite  the  king's  summons,  to  remain  at 
Fort  Carolina  and  in  command.  The  Sieur  Ri- 
baut undertakes  to  set  the  commandant  right 
in  the  king's  eyes  so  soon  as  he  shall  reach 
France." 

"  Yes,  yes,  lad,  all  this  I  know  right  well ;  also 
I  know  that  my  master  will  hear  naught  of  this 
offer,  but  will  go  at  once  to  answer  the  king  in 
person.  He  hath  borne  many  burdens  since 
coming  to  this  land  of  sorrow,  but  this  last 
takes  the  life  of  him  more  than  all  others.  Ah, 
Madame,  I  would  this  Ribaut  had  not  arrived 
for  a  little  time,  then  would  we  be  even  now  on 
the  sea  returning  to  France  —  to  France."  She 
repeated  the  last  word  with  longing  tenderness. 

"Truly,  good  mother,  I  fear  our  plight  would 
then  be  little  better  than  it  now  is,  for  this  is 
sorry  weather  for  sailing  the  deep  ;  "  and  Madame 
Debre  sighed,  her  thoughts,  diverted  for  a  mo- 
ment by  the  talk  of  Loudonniere,  slipping  back 
at  once  to  their  old  sorrowful  groove. 

"  And  think  you,  Madame,"  answered  the 
Breton  woman  with  spirit,  "  that  the  good  God 
would  have  the  hard  heart  to  destroy  us  when 
we  had  once  more  set  our  faces  toward  France? 
'T  is  not  to  be  believed  ;  and  if  it  were  so,  and 
we  indeed  perished,  at  least  our  bones  would  lie 
a  few  leagues  nearer  home,  whereas  now  we  are 
like  to  leave  them  in  this  land  of  sorrow  for 


8  The  Sword  of  Justice 

Spaniard  and  buzzard  to  pick.  But  while  I 
chatter,  the  porridge  cools."  Saying  which  she 
seized  the  pewter  basin  and,  covering  it  with  her 
apron,  hurriedly  departed,  letting  in  a  gust  of  rain 
and  wind  as  she  opened  and  closed  the  door. 

"  Poor  woman,  she  bears  a  faithful  and  de- 
voted heart  toward  her  master,  and  takes  his 
griefs  even  as  heavily  as  he  does,"  said  Madame 
Debre,  looking  toward  the  door  through  which 
the  woman  had  but  now  disappeared. 

"  It  is  true,  and,  moreover,  I  am  fearful  that 
Mere  Groton's  head-shakings  are  not  without 
good  cause.  The  commandant  is  a  very  ill  man, 
and  refuses  to  behave  as  such.  Do  as  she  may, 
the  poor  woman  cannot  keep  him  to  his  bed. 
He  will  have  on  his  hose  and  doublet  and  creep 
to  the  guard-room  to  see  that  his  orders  are 
being  carried  forward,  and  naught  neglected  for 
our  safety.  This  very  day,  'twas  all  that  Saint 
Cler  could  do  to  keep  him  from  going  into  the 
storm  to  assure  himself  that  the  men  were  doing 
all  that  might  be  to  repair  the  breach  in  the 
rampart.  It  is  a  monstrous  pity  we  had  not 
been  able  to  foresee  the  coming  of  Sieur  Ri- 
baut,  and  held  our  hand  from  the  destruction 
of  this  our  poor  shelter."  Pierre  concluded 
with  a  sigh  of  regret. 

"  T  is  well  enough  to  regret  these  matters, 
but  for  my  part  I  do  most  condemn  the  fool- 
hardy decision  of  Sieur  Ribaut  to  attack  the 
Spanish.  Scarce  a  man  of  them  all  but  gave 


The  Sword  of  Justice  9 

his  word  against  it,  despite  which  he  refused  to 
listen  to  reason,  and  sailed  away,  taking  even 
the  few  poor  men-at-arms  that  we  had  for  our 
defence." 

"  Nevertheless,  mother, 'twas  not  only  a  bold 
act,  but  I  do  believe  't  was  a  right  well  con- 
ceived plan.  How  could  we  know  that  God 
himself  would  enter  the  field  against  us  and 
loose  the  four  winds  of  heaven  for  our  destruc- 
tion. If  we  of  the  Huguenot  faith  are  indeed  the 
chosen  of  the  Almighty,  to  bear  His  name  before 
all  nations,  'tis  passing  strange  that  He  doth 
seem  to  hold  so  little  care  toward  us,  and  to  the 
evil  persecution  of  man  even  adds  the  strength 
of  His  destroying  arm,"  returned  the  boy  with 
hotness. 

"  Hush,  my  son,  your  rebellious  tongue  is 
perilous  near  to  blasphemy.  Whom  the  Lord 
loveth  He  chasteneth.  The  ways  of  Providence 
are  indeed  dark  and  full  of  mystery,  but  that 
which  the  Lord  of  Hosts  permits  must  be  right 
—  it  must  be  right."  She  repeated  the  last 
phrase  with  a  vehemence  which  seemed  more 
an  attempt  to  still  the  clamoring  doubts  of  her 
own  heart  than  any  effort  to  meet  the  boy's  im- 
patient questioning. 

"  Doubtless  you  have  the  right  of  it,  mother, 
but  it  is  too  much  for  my  little  wit,"  returned 
Pierre  soothingly,  intuitively  understanding  that 
his  doubts  were  adding  an  extra  weight  to  her 
already  heavy  burden. 


io  The  Sword  of  Justice 

Silence  lasted  between  them  for  a  time,  broken 
only  by  the  noise  of  the  wind,  the  dull  pouring 
of  the  rain,  and  the  constant  drip,  drop  of  the 
leaking  thatch.  Then  with  an  effort  Madame 
Debre  withdrew  her  gaze  from  space  and  roused 
herself  from  her  dreary  thoughts. 

"  Go  to  your  bed,  Pierre,  it  grows  late,  and 
what  with  your  broken  arm  you  will  be  fretting 
yourself  into  a  fever  like  that  of  the  command- 
ant; then  indeed  would  I  be  moved  to  doubt — 
all  things,"  she  ended  vaguely.  "  Best  not  lay 
aside  your  hose  and  doublet,  for  any  minute 
may  find  us  shelterless  in  the  storm." 

The  boy  rose  obediently.  "  But  for  yourself, 
mother,"  he  questioned,  "  will  you  seek  sleep  as 
well?  'T  is  no  better  for  you  to  wake  and  watch 
than  for  me.  Come  you  to  your  bed  also,"  he 
coaxed  lovingly. 

"  Presently,  presently,  Pierre,  I  will  but  sit 
here  a  little  longer,  then  I  promise  you  to  rest." 
With  this  the  boy  was  forced  to  content  himself, 
though  he  turned  away  to  his  bed  with  reluct- 
ance, and  once  even  took  a  step  back  as  if  to 
dispute  his  mother's  authority  and  remain  with 
her.  His  second  thought  was  better,  however. 
He  rolled  himself  into  his  wall-bed,  drawing  the 
curtains  to  shut  away  the  faint  light  of  the 
candle.  Youth  knows  not  how  to  wake  and 
watch  even  in  moments  of  great  stress,  and 
after  a  time  the  loud  regular  breathing  from 
the  corner  told  the  watching  mother  that  mer- 


The  Sword  of  Justice  1 1 

ciful    oblivion    had   shut   the    boy   away  from 
care. 

The  night  wore  on.  The  wind  boomed  in 
the  chimney,  the  torrents  of  leaden  rain  fell 
with  a  dull  roar  on  the  soaked  thatch,  the 
steady  drip  in  the  room  increased,  sometimes 
stopping  its  irritating  regularity  to  run  for  a 
moment  in  a  little  stream,  only  to  take  up  the 
old  drip,  drop,  drip  when  the  pressure  of  water 
had  relieved  itself.  At  length  poor,  tortured 
nature  found  its  rightful  vent:  the  woman 
flung  herself  forward  on  the  table,  her  arms 
stretched  out  across  it,  her  head  buried  against 
them.  A  horror  greater  than  words  could 
utter  possessed  and  encompassed  her.  The 
weight  of  the  world  seemed  to  crush  her  frail 
being.  Her  sobs  came  hard  and  fast  now,  and 
a  merciful  rain  of  tears  with  them.  Her  stiff 
white  lips  were  striving  to  utter  something 
between  the  gasps  and  cries  which  tore  her. 
"  Out  of  the  deep  have  I  called  upon  Thee, 
Lord,  Lord,  hear  my  voice." 

Outside  the  storm  gathered  in  violence, 
although  an  hour  since  it  seemed  to  have 
reached  a  point  beyond  which  it  could  not  go. 
On  the  rampart  the  sentries  had  been  forced  to 
give  over  the  hopeless  task  of  walking  their 
narrow  beat,  and  were  huddled  to  the  water- 
soaked  earth  in  an  effort  to  save  themselves 
from  being  blown  from  their  places  into  the 


1 2  The  Sword  of  Justice 

defending  ditch  beyond.  Faithfully  they  kept 
their  lookout,  although  the  blackness  and  blind- 
ing sheets  of  rain  would  have  well  concealed  an 
enemy  not  ten  feet  distant. 

It  was  toward  morning  now,  though  the  dawn 
showed  no  faintest  signs  of  breaking,  and  the 
east  was  dark  as  midnight.  The  guard-room 
door  opened  and  closed,  allowing  a  feeble  ray 
of  light  to  streak  for  a  brief  instant  across  the 
parade.  A  man  came  out  into  the  blackness, 
struggling  toward  the  sentries.  It  was  La  Vigne, 
the  officer  of  the  guard,  and  the  men  on  the 
rampart  watched  hopefully  the  tiny  ray  of  light 
which  came  from  his  lantern,  half  held  under 
his  blowing  cloak  to  keep  it  from  being  utterly 
extinguished.  He  struggled  forward,  battling 
against  the  wind,  clutching  his  drooping  beaver 
to  his  head  with  one  hand,  while  with  the  other 
he  strove  to  control  the  shifting  folds  of  his 
great  cloak,  which  offered  little  protection  for 
anything  save  the  smoking  lantern  beneath. 
At  length  he  reached  the  first  sentry,  would 
indeed  have  stumbled  over  him  in  the  blackness 
had  not  the  man  raised  himself  and  shouted  at 
the  top  of  his  voice,  — 

"  Better  get  to  your  knees,  captain,  or  you  are 
like  to  go  whirling  into  yonder  ditch." 

"God's  mercy,  man,  but  this  is  fearful," 
shouted  the  captain  in  return,  while  a  fresh 
blast  tore  his  beaver  from  his  clasped  fingers 
and  flung  it  into  the  darkness  like  a  leaf. 


The  Sword  of  Justice  1 3 

"  Surely  this  storm  is  our  protection  as  well  as 
our  trial,  for  no  enemy  could  attack  on  such  a 
night.  The  commandant  sleeps  at  length,  and 
I  dare  not  wake  him,  but  on  my  own  authority 
I  shall  relieve  the  guard.  Get  you  out  of  this 
as  soon  as  may  be,  sergeant,"  and  La  Vigne 
turned  about  with  his  flickering  lantern,  and 
made  such  slow  way  as  he  could  back  to 
shelter. 

Five  minutes  later  the  last  sentry  tramped, 
dripping  like  a  sponge,  into  the  guard-room  of 
the  barracks,  and  Fort  Carolina  lay  as  un- 
guarded against  the  tempest  of  blood  about  to 
break  over  it,  as  it  was  to  the  tempest  of  water 
that  already  deluged  it. 


II 

DURING  the  most  of  this  black  night,  even  while 
La  Vigne  dismissed  the  sentries  with  the  calm 
assertion  that  no  enemy  would  or  could  lurk 
near  in  such  a  storm,  not  one  mile  distant  the 
van-guard  of  a  force  of  five  hundred  Spaniards 
waited  the  coming  of  another  day,  seeking  such 
poor  shelter  as  the  thick  pine  forest  afforded : 
waited  with  as  grim  forebodings  as  the  helpless 
people  within  Fort  Caroline. 

Eight  days  before,  Pedro  Menendez,  Adelan- 
tado  of  Florida  by  appointment  of  his  most 
Catholic  Majesty,  Philip  II.,  had  watched  with 


14  The  Sword  of  Justice 

a  thankful  heart  the  light  breeze  which  had 
sprung  up  almost  as  an  answer  to  prayer,  lash 
itself  into  a  great  gale.  In  this  gale  he  saw 
the  ships  of  Jean  Ribaut,  which  had  but  now 
threatened  swift  destruction  to  the  newly  estab- 
lished town  of  St.  Augustine,  driven  to  sea,  and, 
to  the  experienced  eyes  of  a  sailor,  to  almost 
certain  wreck. 

Then  it  was  that  the  bold  thought  of  an  over- 
land march  against  Fort  Caroline  came  to  the 
brain  of  Menendez,  and  swift  to  act,  he  as- 
sembled his  officers  in  the  great  log-built 
lodge  of  Seloy,  the  Indian  chief,  of  which  the 
Spaniards  had  promptly  dispossessed  him  on 
landing.  Here  the  emissary  of  Philip  II.  laid 
before  those  under  him  his  plan  of  action, 
only  to  meet  an  opposition  from  all  quarters, 
as  sullen  as  it  was  determined.  No  argu- 
ment, no  remonstrance  availed  :  Menendez  com- 
manded when  argument  failed,  and  by  force  of 
a  tremendous  personality  he  led  five  hundred 
pike-men  and  arquebusiers,  besides  their  offi- 
cers, on  a  march  against  the  French  Fort. 

Now  on  the  night  of  September  19,  the  Span- 
ish, although  they  themselves  were  not  aware  of 
it,  were  within  a  mile  of  their  destination,  having 
marched  these  two  days  through  floods  of  driv- 
ing rain,  through  marsh  and  morass  almost 
waist  deep,  often  obliged  to  hack  their  way 
through  sharp  palmetto,  scrub,  and  "  hum- 
mock" matted  with  brambles  and  wild  vines. 


1  he  Sword  of  Justice  1 5 

They  were  wet  as  men  could  be,  their  match 
cords  would  not  ignite,  their  ammunition  was 
damp,  the  allowance  of  bread  with  which 
each  man  had  started  the  journey  had  long 
since  been  cast  aside,  water-soaked  and  worth- 
less. Their  canteens  were  empty  of  the  wine 
which  might  have  imparted  a  little  glow  of 
warmth  and  comfort.  Shivering,  cursing,  the 
water  dripping  from  their  rusty  morions  and 
running  clammily  under  their  steel  corselets, 
some  sat,  some  stood,  others  even  tried  to  gain 
a  brief  rest  on  the  spongy  earth,  while  they 
waited  the  coming  of  dawn. 

"  This  Asturian  corito  knows  no  more  of  war 
on  shore  than  doth  an  ass,"  said  a  sullen  young 
ensign,  Fernando  Perez,  aloud  to  one  of  his 
fellows.  "  He  hath  betrayed  us  all,  and,  by 
the  Holy  Virgin,  had  my  counsel  been  fol- 
lowed he  would  have  had  his  just  deserts  ere 
ever  he  set  forth  on  this  cursed  journey." 

"  Have  a  care  to  your  tongue,  Perez.  If  the 
Adelantado  hear  your  speech  you  are  like  to 
get  a  convenient  thrust  in  your  back  ere  this 
expedition  be  over.  And  if  not  so,  sooner  or 
later  you  will  come  to  pay  the  price  of  your 
rashness,  that  I  promise  you,"  returned  his 
more  cautious  companion. 

"  And  if  it  be  even  as  you  say,  is  it  worse 
to  die  so,  than  to  perish  of  hunger,  or  choke 
of  swallowing  this  marsh  flood  which  forever 
pours  on  us,  until  we  are  in  a  fair  way  to 


1 6  The  Sword  of  Justice 

be  drowned?"  questioned  the  other,  in  sheer 
bravado  refusing  to  lower  his  tone  ever  so 
little.  "  By  the  blessed  Virgin,  I  dare  be 
sworn  many  of  the  common  soldiers  have  not 
had  such  a  cleansing  as  this  storm  hath  ren- 
dered them,  since  the  hour  of  their  birth.  A 
sorry  set  to  storm  and  take  a  fort,  hungry, 
wet,  and  footsore,  as  we  are.  As  for  me,  I 
would  deem  it  folly  to  storm  a  defended  spot 
garrisoned  by  babes,  with  men  in  such  a  plight ; 
yet,  curse  him,  the  Asturian  will  be  for  leading 
us  forward  now  that  the  light  is  coming.  A 
pest  on  these  new  countries,  I  know  not  what 
evil  thing  prompted  me  hither." 

"  As  to  that,  comrade,  it  is  not  hard  guess- 
ing: debts,  damnable  debts.  Naught  lends 
such  fleetness  to  the  heels  of  a  man  as  a  dog- 
ging creditor.  There  goes  the  Adelantado 
now,  doubtless  to  reconnoitre,"  he  broke  off 
to  say,  as  Menendez,  a  guide,  and  a  few  offi- 
cers, tramped  past  in  the  gray  light. 

"  And  before  long  the  trumpets  will  be  sound- 
ing an  assault,  if  the  lads  can  open  their  mouths 
for  the  blast  without  having  them  filled  with 
water,"  growled  Perez  in  a  tone  of  deep  disgust. 

"  Mercy  of  God,  Fernando,  what  would  you 
have?"  exclaimed  his  companion,  "what  else 
can  we  do  but  assault  and  take  the  Fort?  We 
are  starving  now,  we  have  neither  bread  nor 
wine  to  sustain  us  on  a  return  march  to  our 
camp.  What,  then?  As  for  myself,  I  shall 


The  Sword  of  Justice  1 7 

eat  or  die,  for  I  have  taken  in  my  belt  to  the 
last  hole  and  have  no  further  means  by  which 
to  contract  the  gnawing  pain  within  me.  Surely 
the  French  must  have  something  upon  which 
a  man  can  stay  his  stomach,  and  I  am  for  get- 
ting at  it  as  speedily  as  possible." 

"  No  fear  of  your  starving,  Manuel,  you  could 
live  these  many  days  on  your  fat,  as  a  bear  in 
the  cold  season,"  answered  Perez,  moved  for  an 
instant  to  lighter  mood  by  the  look  of  woe 
on  the  fat  countenance  of  his  friend. 

Ere  long  the  waiting  comrades  saw  the  re- 
turn of  Menendez,  —  saw,  too,  a  look  of  dark  de- 
termination written  in  deep  lines  on  his  fanatic 
face.  They  watched  him  turn  his  steps  toward 
the  body  of  officers  who  were  already  gathered, 
talking  in  low  tones.  Shortly  there  could  be 
heard,  faintly  through  the  pouring  rain,  the 
sound  of  his  impassioned  voice,  rising  and  fall- 
ing, as  he  harangued  the  men,  pleading,  threat- 
ening, and  arguing.  At  first  it  seemed  to  no 
avail  that  he  poured  forth  his  eloquence,  for  a 
stolid  resistance  was  visible  both  in  their  faces 
and  attitudes;  at  length,  however,  his  words 
began  to  strike  a  few  sparks,  and  ere  the  group 
broke  up,  the  will  of  Pedro  Menendez  had 
again  imposed  itself  upon  those  resisting  wills. 

The  order  to  move  forward  came  shortly  as 
Perez  had  predicted,  and  the  troops  took  up 
their  march  in  straggling  disorderly  array  that 
spoke  little  for  their  discipline.  They  were  not 


1 8  The  Sword  of  Justice 

long  in  reaching  the  crest  of  the  hill  which  lay 
between  them  and  their  destination.  There 
beneath  lay  Fort  Caroline,  dimly  seen  through 
the  early  morning  light  and  the  pouring  rain. 

The  trumpets  sounded  the  assault.  Then 
there  rang  over  the  sleeping,  unguarded  Fort 
the  fierce  battle  cry, — 

"  Santiago  !  At  them !  God  with  us !  Vic- 
tory !  "  And  down  the  low  hill  the  Spanish 
poured,  sweeping  along  like  a  wave  of  destruc- 
tion. 

A  young  trumpeter  who  chanced  to  be  with- 
out on  the  parade  was  the  only  observer  of  this 
scene.  For  an  instant  he  was  paralyzed  by 
fright,  then  he  quickly  put  his  shaking  trumpet 
to  his  mouth,  and  to  his  credit  be  it  said,  he 
sounded  the  alarm  in  no  uncertain  tone. 

In  an  instant  all  was  turmoil.  Sick  men 
leaped  from  their  beds,  the  soldiers  rushed  from 
their  quarters,  half  naked,  and  wholly  unarmed. 
Loudonniere  seized  his  sword  and  target,  shout- 
ing to  his  men  to  follow  him.  "  The  breach  ! 
the  breach !  "  he  cried  rushing  toward  the  most 
defenceless  spot.  Too  late,  sharp  Spanish  eyes 
had  already  discerned  this  weakness,  and  even 
as  the  gallant  Frenchman  and  his  ill  clad, 
ill  armed,  band  reached  the  spot,  a  horde  of 
dark  faces  appeared  over  the  rampart  and  a 
rush  of  well-armed  Spaniards  met  his  feeble 
force.  Hither  and  thither  now  fled  the  fright- 
ened French,  men,  women,  and  children,  until 


The  Sword  of  fiistice  1 9 

a  quick  thrust  from  a  pike,  a  heavy  blow  from 
a  halberd,  set  them  at  rest  forever. 

When  the  first  note  of  the  trumpeter's  fright- 
ened warning  sounded,  Madame  Debr6  had 
heard  it  with  little  surprise.  Her  vigil  of  the 
night  had  prepared  her  for  horrors.  For  a 
moment  she  was  in  doubt  if  the  trumpet's  warn- 
ing sound  was  not  indeed  a  part  of  the  same 
horrid  imaginings  which  had  stayed  with  her 
through  the  long  hours  of  darkness.  The  shrill 
note  came  again  and  yet  again;  the  sound  of 
swift  running  feet,  cries  of  fright,  screams  of 
mortal  agony,  began  now  to  mingle  with  its 
blare,  then  it  ceased  abruptly,  cut  off  in  the 
midst  of  a  note. 

"  Pierre,  Pierre,"  called  the  frightened  woman, 
shaking  the  sleeping  lad,  — "  Pierre,  wake 
quickly,  something  fearful  has  befallen." 

The  boy  roused  from  his  heavy  sleep,  still 
dazed,  came  to  his  feet  with  a  look  of  startled 
wonder  in  his  dark  eyes. 

"What  is  it?  What  is  wrong?"  he  ques- 
tioned, and  as  if  in  answer,  a  loud  shout  of 
"  Santiago  !  Santiago  !  "  sounded  outside  and 
awfully  near. 

The  blood  flew  from  his  cheek,  leaving  him 
pale  but  not  unmindful  of  his  manhood.  His 
first  thought  was  for  a  weapon ;  alas !  there  was 
none.  He  sprung  forward  and  seized  one  of 
the  fire-irons.  At  that  moment  came  a  heavy 
pounding  on  tha  door,  and  good  Mere  Groton's 


2O  The  Sword  of  Justice 

voice,  frightened  almost  beyond  recognition, 
screamed  its  warning.  "  Madame,  Madame,  flee 
for  your  lives,  the  Spaniards  are  upon  us !  God 
give  wings  to  your  feet  I  follow  my  master," 
and  the  sharp  sound  of  her  retreating  sabots 
could  be  heard  even  through  the  din  of  battle. 

"  Come,  mother,"  said  the  boy,  taking  com- 
mand at  once  by  right  of  his  sex.  "  No  use 
to  linger  here  to  be  slaughtered  like  rats  in  a 
trap."  He  flung  wide  the  door,  and  grasping 
the  fire-iron  in  his  left  and  unwounded  hand, 
with  his  mother  close  at  his  side  issued  from 
the  room.  The  sight  which  met  his  eyes  was 
enough  to  turn  young  blood  craven.  On  the 
far  side  of  the  parade  the  Spanish  were  swarm- 
ing in  over  the  broken  rampart,  leaving  dead 
bodies  fallen  in  every  position  of  grotesque 
horror  to  mark  their  passage.  One  of  the  great 
gates  of  the  Fort  had  been  flung  wide,  and 
through  it  the  body  of  the  French  were  now 
pressing  in  a  futile  attempt  to  escape,  only,  how- 
ever, to  meet  a  stream  of  incoming  Spaniards. 

"  Come,  mother,  quickly,"  called  Pierre,  a 
faint  plan  forming  in  his  ready  brain. 

At  this  instant  the  slight  figure  of  a  child 
about  fourteen,  clad  only  in  her  loose  night- 
gown, her  tumbled,  dark  curls  lying  in  disorder 
on  her  shoulders,  the  slumber  of  innocent 
childhood  scarce  frightened  from  her  startled 
eyes,  ran  toward  them  with  a  scream  of  terror, 
and  buried  her  face  against  Madame  Debre's 


The  Sword  of  Justice  2 1 

skirts.  "  Oh,  Madame,  Madame  !  take  me  with 
you,  I  know  not  what  to  do,"  she  wailed 
pitifully. 

"  Eugenie,  child,"  exclaimed  the  gentlewoman, 
hurriedly  unwrapping  from  her  shoulders  the 
long  gray  cloak  which  she  had  caught  up,  and 
enveloping  the  child's  shivering  body  in  it. 

"  Quickly,  mother,  there  is  no  time  for  tarry- 
ing," exclaimed  Pierre  impatiently,  thrusting 
the  figure  of  the  child  between  them,  and 
hurrying  forward  even  as  he  spoke. 

On  reaching  the  gate  Pierre  found  it  to  be 
even  as  he  had  supposed :  the  Spaniards  with- 
out were  busy  at  their  game  of  slaughter,  and 
there  was  no  hope  of  escape  in  this  direction, 
nor,  for  the  matter  of  that,  in  any  other  yet. 
With  a  quick  push  he  sent  little  Eugenie  behind 
the  shelter  of  the  great  wide-opened  gate,  his 
mother  next,  and,  the  fire-iron  firmly  grasped 
in  his  uninjured  hand,  he  slipped  in  after  them, 
determined  to  sell  life  as  dearly  as  possible  if 
the  worst  befell,  hoping  meanwhile  that,  as  the 
battle  passed  away  from  the  gate,  an  opportu- 
nity for  escape  might  present  itself. 

As  for  the  dazed,  frightened  fugitives,  they 
were  not  long  in  realizing  that  the  way  through 
the  open  gate  was  the  way  to  quick  death. 
They  began  at  once  to  press  back,  while  the 
Spaniards  came  on,  slaughtering  at  every  step. 
They  were  well  within  the  Fort  now,  and  the 
battle  —  if  battle  you  could  call  it  where  sick 


22  The  Sword  of  Justice 

men,  helpless  women,  and  little  children  knelt 
defenceless  before  the  enemy  to  receive  their 
death-blow  —  now  raged  away  from  the  gate. 

At  length  Pierre's  hoped-for  opportunity 
came.  No  one  had  thought  to  look  behind  the 
open  gate.  Why  hunt  for  victims,  when  at 
every  step  the  lust  for  slaughter  found  ample 
satisfaction? 

Creeping  from  their  hiding-place  they  suc- 
ceeded in  slipping  through  the  gate  unobserved. 
Turning  at  once  toward  the  nearest  spot  where 
palmetto  scrub  afforded  even  a  slight  hiding- 
place  they  ran  as  fast  as  fear-stricken  feet  could 
bear  them.  From  time  to  time  Pierre  glanced 
back  over  his  shoulder.  No  sign  of  pursuit  yet, 
and  they  were  already  within  the  screening 
bushes;  the  friendly  forest,  not  far  distant, 
seemed  already  to  reach  out  welcoming  arms. 
On  they  hurried,  keeping  the  child  ever  between 
them  as  they  ran. 

They  reached  the  dense  underbrush ;  the  boy 
heaved  a  sigh  of  relief  seeing  their  hope  of 
escape.  His  rejoicing  was  too  soon,  Eugenie's 
Spartan  courage  had  found  its  limit. 

"  Oh,  Madame,  Madame !  I  can  go  no  farther ; 
my  feet,  my  feet,"  she  wailed  in  a  loud  voice, 
looking  down  with  tear-dimmed  eyes  on  her 
bare  feet,  whose  tender  flesh  was  so  cruelly 
lacerated  by  the  sharp  edges  of  palmetto  scrub, 
that  each  step  had  left  its  bloody  mark  this  long 
way. 


The  Sword  of  Justice  23 

The  high-pitched  childish  voice  carried  well, 
and  its  thin  tones  fell  on  the  ears  of  a  group  of 
Spaniards  lurking  not  far  distant  in  the  woods. 
It  was  in  vain  that  the  three  hunted  creatures 
crouched  to  the  earth,  hoping  to  remain  unseen. 
The  first  of  the  enemy  was  soon  upon  them, 
shouting  to  his  fellows  "  to  come  on,  lest  some 
of  this  hell  spawn  escape  !  " 

As  the  foremost  Spaniard  reached  them, 
Pierre  raised  himself  from  his  crouching  posi- 
tion. Brandishing  his  fire-iron,  he  struck  the 
fellow's  pike  such  a  blow,  that  it  shattered  use- 
less in  his  hand.  Quickly  he  followed  up  his 
advantage  with  a  second  stroke  of  his  weapon, 
which,  despite  that  it  was  delivered  with  his  left 
hand,  fell  true,  crushing  the  fellow's  skull.  All 
to  no  purpose,  however,  for  in  another  moment 
a  halberd  crashed  against  the  boy's  head,  and 
sent  him  reeling  to  the  earth  without  sound  or 
twitching  muscle  to  indicate  a  lingering  spark 
of  life. 

"  Pierre,  Pierre !  "  screamed  the  agonized 
mother,  raising  her  boy's  senseless  head  on  her 
arm,  all  oblivious,  in  her  grief,  of  the  evil  pres- 
ence above  her,  or  her  own  deadly  peril.  Be- 
fore the  blow  could  fall,  a  companion  caught 
the  upraised  arm  of  her  assailant. 

"  Hold,  man,  the  Adelantado's  orders  are, 
from  now  on  spare  the  women,  and  children 
under  fifteen.  Besides  the  which,  fool,  why 
desire  to  kill  the  woman?'  Though  not  in  her 


24  The  Sword  of  Justice 

first  youth,  she  is  not  uncomely.  As  for  the 
other,"  pointing  to  Eugenie,  "  she  is  but  unripe 
fruit,  and  will  be  the  better  for  a  little  keeping. 
Let  be,  man." 

"  Tis  ever  the  same  with  you,  Perez,  a  pretty 
face  or  the  whisk  of  a  skirt  is  enough  to  turn  you 
from  your  duty,"  growled  his  companion  surlily, 
but  he  dropped  his  weapon  in  spite  of  his  tone 
of  protest. 

As  for  the  poor  mother,  huddled  over  her 
dead  boy,  she  neither  regarded  that  death  had 
threatened,  nor  life  been  granted  her.  She 
was  oblivious  to  all  thought  save  "  Pierre, 
Pierre."  Nor  did  she  heed  when  a  rough  hand 
set  her  on  her  feet,  and  the  prick  of  a  pike  in 
her  back  bade  her  not  lag  in  her  going.  She 
clasped  Eugenie  by  the  hand;  the  childish 
agony  on  the  quivering  young  lips  was  hushed 
now  by  fear;  no  sound  came  from  the  little  one, 
although  the  tender  cut  feet  left  their  mark  of 
blood  at  each  step. 

Near  the  gate  they  met  soldiers  already  drag- 
ging away  the  dead  bodies  to  fling  them  by  the 
river  brink,  while  within  the  court  the  faint 
sickening  odor  of  the  shambles  hung  over  the 
place,  the  rain  pools  had  taken  on  a  deep  red 
hue,  and  everything  seemed  to  swim  in  blood. 

No  look  of  horror  or  dread  marked  the  un- 
moved face  of  this  woman,  who  used  to  shudder 
and  draw  aside  at  the  least  thought  of  pain. 
Her  roving  eyes  glanced  from  one  awful  sight 


The  Sword  of  Justice  25 

to  another  with  no  more  of  shrinking  in  them 
than  if  she  walked  in  a  garden  of  roses,  though 
the  child  hid  her  face,  trembling.  Madame 
only  raised  the  hem  of  her  gown,  lest  it  be 
polluted  by  the  streams  of  cooling  blood  over 
which  she  stepped.  The  habit  of  daintiness,  a 
habit  of  a  lifetime,  unconsciously  asserted  it- 
self in  this  hour,  when  reason,  sympathy,  almost 
life  itself,  had  been  struck  down  by  the  shock  of 
circumstance. 

Across  the  parade  the  soldiers  took  her, 
thrusting  her  into  the  room  whence  less  than 
an  hour  before  she  had  fled  with  her  boy,  and 
where  each  familiar  object  cut  into  her  mem- 
ory like  a  lash.  The  place  was  crowded  with 
women  and  children  huddled  about  in  every 
attitude  of  grief  and  despair,  nor  did  any  seem 
to  heed  the  new-comers. 

Seated  on  the  floor,  Madame  Debre"  covered 
her  eyes  with  her  shaking  hands.  Oh,  if  for 
one  merciful  moment  she  could  shut  out  the 
sight  of  her  dead  boy's  face.  "  Pierre,  Pierre, 
Pierre "  was  all  the  thought  of  which  her 
stricken  brain  was  capable.  Oh,  sorrowing 
woman,  the  hand  of  adversity  is  indeed  heavy 
upon  you,  for  worse  than  the  loss  of  your  hus- 
band, worse  than  the  slaughter  of  your  boy  is 
yet  in  store  for  you.  Force  your  white  lips  to 
say  again  and  yet  again,  as  you  did  but  lately, 
"  Whatsoever  the  Lord  of  Hosts  permits,  surely 
that  must  be  right  —  surely  that  must  be  right," 


26  The  Sword  of  Justice 

lest,  forgetting  this,  the  madness  of  unbelief  fall 
upon  you. 

Outside  the  sounds  of  fright  and  mortal 
extremity  gave  place  in  time  to  the  sounds  of 
revelry  and  mirth,  as  the  famished,  blood- 
glutted  Spaniards  feasted  on  the  wine  and  gen- 
erous stores  but  lately  arrived  at  the  Fort  with 
Jean  Ribaut. 

When  darkness  fell  again  over  the  land  it 
shut  out  the  sight  of  the  heaped-up  dead  by  the 
river  brink,  and  it  drew  a  merciful  cover  over 
the  blackened  faces  and  staring  eyes  of  a  score 
of  heavy  bodies  dangling  from  a  pine-tree  which 
the  night  wind  set  swaying  in  ghastly  unison 
of  motion.  Over  these,  a  board  fastened  to  the 
tree  trunk  bore  the  rough  inscription  burned 
into  its  surface,  "  Not  as  to  Frenchmen,  but  as 
to  heretics." 


Ill 

AND  now  History  turns  a  page,  and  with  inex- 
orable finger  outstretched  points  to  a  chapter 
of  yet  darker  deeds :  I  speak  of  the  fate  which 
befell  the  expedition  under  Jean  Ribaut,  whose 
ships  were  driven  inshore  by  the  storm  and 
wrecked,  some  not  far  from  the  mouth  of 
Matanzas  Inlet,  others  lower  down  the  coast. 
I  have  no  wish  to  lead  you  through  the  reek 
of  human  butchery  oftener  than  need  be,  and 


The  Sword  of  Justice  27 

will  therefore  pass  over  the  account  of  the  first 
massacre  which  took  place  on  the  lower  point 
of  that  island  now  known  as  Anastasia.  In 
recounting  the  second  I  repeat  the  first,  so 
alike  were  they  in  every  detail,  save  that  from 
the  first  band  of  two  hundred  men  who  sur- 
rendered, twelve  Breton  sailors  who  professed 
themselves  to  be  Romanists,  and  because  of 
the  Spanish  need  for  craftsmen  four  carpen- 
ters and  calkers  from  among  the  French,  were 
saved  and  sent  to  St.  Augustine.  The  remaining 
one  hundred  and  eighty-four  men,  with  hands 
bound,  perished  helplessly,  after  having  sur- 
rendered their  weapons,  trusting  to  the  good 
faith  of  the  Spanish  commander. 

For  a  second  time  Indian  runners  brought 
to  the  Spanish  town  the  news  that  camp-fires 
burned  near  the  mouth  of  the  Matanzas,  and 
for  a  second  time  Menendez  and  his  force 
crossed  the  inlet,  marched  over  the  island,  and 
followed  the  coast  line  until  at  midnight  they 
beheld,  gleaming  on  the  other  side  of  the 
strip  of  water,  the  fires  of  the  shipwrecked 
French. 

I  shall  pass  over  the  details  of  the  trickery 
by  which  one  hundred  and  fifty  of  the  three 
hundred  and  fifty  half-starved  men  were  per- 
suaded to  disarm  themselves  and  surrender 
peacefully  into  the  hands  of  the  Spanish,  trust- 
ing to  the  implied  promise  contained  in  the 
words  of  Menendez,  "  If  you  will  give  up^our 


28  The  Sword  of  Justice 

arms  and  banners,  and  place  yourselves  at  my 
mercy,  you  may  do  so,  and  I  will  act  toward  you 
as  God  shall  give  me  grace.  Do  as  you  will, 
for  other  than  this  you  can  have  neither  truce 
nor  friendship  with  me."  History  speaks  with 
no  uncertain  sound  of  this  period,  there  being 
extant  five  accounts  by  eye-witnesses,  three  of 
Spanish  and  two  of  French  origin.  Out  of  the 
mouth  of  the  Spaniard  is  the  Spaniard  judged 
and  condemned. 

It  was  late  evening  before  the  last  boat-load 
of  the  French  crossed  the  Inlet  and  submitted 
themselves  to  be  bound  even  as  their  prede- 
cessors. Helpless  in  the  hands  of  their  enemies, 
they  were  too  late  awakened  to  the  treachery 
that  surrounded  them. 

The  sun  had  already  made  its  swift  descent  as 
it  does  in  this  latitude.  Darkness  threatened  to 
cover  the  land  until  the  flaming  afterglow  be- 
gan to  burn  in  the  western  sky,  and  soon  the 
light  unrolled  like  a  bloody  banner. 

Was  it  a  reflection  of  the  deed  already  done, 
or  a  foreshadowing  of  the  deed  to  come  ?  To 
some  of  those  starving  French,  weary  and 
despairing,  bound  fast  and  awaiting  death,  it 
seemed  neither,  but  rather  the  first  hint  of  the 
glory  to  be,  for  those  who  died  steadfast  in  the 
faith. 

In  vain  had  Mendoza,  the  black-robed  con- 
fessor of  the  Adelantado,  passed  slowly  up  and 


The  Sword  of  Justice  29 

down  the  line  of  condemned,  holding  aloft  the 
crucifix,  pleading,  threatening,  commanding; 
offering  life  here  and  hereafter  to  those  who 
would  abjure  their  faith. 

So  far  only  one  had  availed  himself  of  these 
offers,  and  stood  now  with  thongs  loosed  and 
hands  unbound,  trying  to  bear  himself  with  an 
air  of  bravado,  striving  meanwhile  to  forget,  if 
possible,  the  groans  and  hisses,  the  cries  of 
"  renegade  "  and  "  coward,"  which  had  but  now 
welled  up  from  the  throats  of  those  hundred  and 
fifty  dauntless  ones. 

He  was  a  man  of  about  forty,  tall  and  de- 
cidedly handsome,  though  all  the  features  were 
too  sharp  for  perfection,  and  the  close-set  eyes 
gave  a  crafty  look,  which,  with  the  determined 
mouth  and  chin,  boded  ill  for  any  who  thwarted 
his  purpose.  His  clothing  was  water-soaked 
and  torn,  the  once  handsome  material  looked 
scarce  better  than  a  beggar's  rags.  His  head 
was  bare,  and  a  white  line  on  the  upper  part 
of  the  forehead  showed  how  much  the  sun  of 
this  semi-tropic  country  had  browned  his  usu- 
ally fair  skin. 

He  was  watching  the  priest  with  anxious 
eyes,  as  for  the  third  time  he  paused  before 
two  men  who  stood  a  little  in  advance  of  their 
comrades. 

"  Jean  Ribaut,"  said  the  priest  solemnly,  hold- 
ing the  crucifix  before  the  soldier's  eyes,  "re- 
cant before  it  is  too  late.  Know  you  not  that 


30  The  Sword  of  Justice 

otherwise  your  minutes  on  earth  are  short,  and 
that  in  the  hereafter  the  fires  of  hell  burn 
hotly  and  endure  eternally  for  such  heretics 
as  you  ?  " 

Ribaut  gazed  upon  the  crucifix  with  eyes  that 
seemed  to  soften  a  little,  as  they  wandered  from 
the  thorn-crowned  head  to  the  pierced  hands 
and  feet  of  the  image. 

"  If  you  would  have  me  turn  weakling,  take 
that  emblem  from  before  my  eyes,  thou  follower 
of  the  Scarlet  Woman.  By  it  you  but  bring  to 
mind  the  death  of  my  Master,  and  teach  me 
strength  to  die  as  He  did,  rather  than  deny  Him. 
We  are  but  earth,  and  must  return  to  earth: 
twenty  years  more  or  less  matters  little.  Do 
your  will  with  me,  for  I  am  ready." 

It  was  at  this  instant  that  the  Frenchman  of 
whom  I  have  spoken  moved  from  the  spot 
where  he  stood  apart,  to  the  group  near  the 
priest.  As  he  came  near,  Ribaut  and  his  com- 
panion took  a  backward  step,  as  if  shrinking 
from  his  presence.  Seeing  this,  Philippe  de 
Lavalatte's  face  flushed  an  angry  red,  and  his 
narrow  eyes  flashed  open  to  emit  a  look  of 
deadly  hate.  He  appeared  not  to  notice 
Ribaut,  but  had  his  looks  fastened  on  the  face 
of  the  man  next  him. 

"  You  do  well  to  draw  yourself  from  the  con- 
tamination of  my  touch,  Henri  Debre",  but  I 
will  live  to  put  a  greater  foulness  on  you  and 
yours,"  he  spoke  rapidly  and  in  French.  "  Call 


The  Sword  of  Justice  3 1 

me  renegade  and  coward,  if  it  please  you ; 
what  care  I  for  hair-splitting  creeds?  Think 
you  I  sought  this  land  for  religious  liberty? 
Pah !  I  care  not  for  God  or  devil,  mass  or 
psalm-singing.  I  came  in  the  wake  of  a 
woman's  kirtle, — yes,  your  wife,  Henri  Debre. 
You  won  her  from  me,  but  I  have  waited,  fol- 
lowed, bided  my  time,  and  now  that  my  hour 
is  come,  think  you  that  mass  or  psalter  will 
separate  us?  Trust  me  they  shall  not,  nor 
will  the  want  of  a  marriage  ceremony  keep 
us  apart  either,  brave  Henri.  While  you  lie 
rotting  here,  and  the  carrion  birds  batten  on 
your  flesh,  I  will  possess  your  wife,  if  she  will 
or  no.  You  think  her  dead  ;  never  believe  it, 
man.  Although  these  wily  Spaniards  give  out 
that  all  at  Fort  Caroline  were  put  to  the 
sword,  I  have  it  direct  from  my  father  the  devil 
that  some  few  women  live,  and  she  amongst 
them.  Ah !  ha !  you  start,  and  strain  at  your 
bonds,  and  look  toward  the  holy  father's  cru- 
cifix. You  too  would  become  coward  and 
renegade,"  and  the  man  finished  with  a  jeering 
laugh. 

It  was  true  Henri  Debr6  was  straining  at  his 
bonds,  while  drops  of  deadly  sweat  stood  on 
his  white  face.  He  was  looking  toward  the 
upheld  crucifix,  and  the  first  temptation  of 
this  awful  hour  had  gripped  his  soul. 

"  Courage,  brother,  courage,"  exclaimed 
Ribaut,  seeing  his  struggle  and  the  agony 


32  The  Sword  of  Justice 

marked  on  his  face.  "  Never  let  this  coward's 
words  turn  you  from  your  manhood.  They 
are  dead  at  Fort  Caroline,  —  all  dead.  Those 
you  love  await  you  above." 

"  Oh,  merciful  God  !  "  groaned  the  man,  "  if 
I  could  know  it.  If  she  is  indeed  alive,  de- 
fenceless in  the  hands  of  these  devils,  I  will 
abjure  anything,  everything,  rather  than  leave 
her  alone  under  such  trial.  Surely  God  would 
understand  and  pardon." 

"Courage,  brother,  courage.  Lavalatte  has 
but  invented  this  tale  to  try  your  soul.  He 
would  have  you  become  even  as  himself.  Let 
us  have  done  with  this."  The  Spaniards  were 
already  advancing  toward  them,  knives  and 
swords  in  hand.  Ribaut  lifted  his  head,  and 
in  a  sweet  baritone  voice  began  to  sing  the 
grandly  moving  melody  of  Martin  Luther's 
hymn,  walking  bravely  forward  to  meet  his 
executioners  as  he  did  so.  Debr6  wavered 
an  instant,  then  catching  the  spirit  of  his 
leader,  he  too  took  up  the  melody  which 
swelled  now  from  many  throats. 

"  A  safe  stronghold  our  God  is  still, 
A  trusty  shield  and  weapon ; 
He'll  help  us  clear  from  all  the  ill 
That  hath  us  now  o'ertaken. 
The  ancient  Prince  of  Hell 
Hath  risen  with  purpose  fell ; 
Strong  mail  of  craft  and  power 
He  weareth  in  this  hour, 
On  earth  is  not  his  fellow. 


The  Sword  of  Justice  33 

"  By  force  of  arms  we  nothing  can  — 
Full  soon  are  we  down  ridden ; 
But  for  us  fights  the  proper  man, 
Whom  God  himself  hath  bidden. 
Ask  ye,  Who  is  this  man  ? 
Christ  Jesus  is  His  name, 
The  Lord  Sabaoth's  Son  — 
He,  and  no  other  one 
Shall  conquer  in  the  battle." 

Before  the  end  of  the  second  verse  many  of 
those  voices  were  hushed  forever ;  the  others, 
undaunted,  sung  on  to  the  end,  and  fell  with 
the  unuttered  note  still  in  their  throats. 

And  here  must  I  pause,  for  the  warm,  sicken- 
ing smell  of  blood  is  again  heavy  on  the  air. 


CHAPTER  I 

IT  was  the  month  of  December ;  the  hot  mid- 
day sun  held  in  its  rays  no  hint  of  winter, 
though  the  weather  was  daily  becoming  more 
variable.  The  nights,  with  their  raw  chill, 
caused  the  condensation  of  all  the  warm  vapors 
drawn  up  from  the  earth  during  the  sunny 
hours,  so  that  the  dew  drenched  the  country 
almost  as  a  light  rain-storm.  In  the  "  hum- 
mock "  some  of  the  trees  had  cast  their  leaves 
and  showed  only  bare  boughs,  but  these  were 
few,  and  hardly  caught  the  eye  amidst  the 
dense  growth  of  glistening  bamboo  vines  which 
ran  from  tree  to  tree,  from  bush  to  bush,  bind- 
ing these  spots  of  alien  growth  into  an  almost 
impassable  tangle  of  green.  The  grass  was 
still  vigorous,  and  the  late  wild-flowers  bloomed 
wherever  a  break  in  the  dense  pine  forest 
allowed  the  sun  to  penetrate  to  the  earth  with 
its  life-giving  rays. 

The  aspect  of  Fort  Caroline  had  changed 
greatly  since  the  night  of  storm  more  than 
two  years  ago,  when,  after  its  baptism  of  blood 
and  water,  the  Fort  changed  its  name  with  its 
owners  and  became  San  Mateo. 


36  The  Sword  of  Justice 

The  breach  in  the  rampart  through  which 
that  wave  of  fierce  cruelty  flowed  unchecked 
was  mended  now,  as  were  the  palisades  and 
buildings.  The  busy  life  that  thronged  the 
narrow  space,  the  thrifty  look  of  the  place,  told 
of  a  people  there  to  remain,  not  a  few  homesick 
wanderers,  waiting  the  first  opportunity  to 
return  to  the  land  of  their  love. 

Where  once  bright  laughter-loving  French 
passed  to  their  daily  tasks,  the  darker,  more 
sombre  countenances  of  the  Spanish  were  now 
seen. 

In  a  room  in  the  quarters  on  the  north  side 
of  the  parade  a  man  sits,  drumming  impatiently 
on  the  table.  A  platter,  a  drinking-goblet  of 
pewter,  and  a  knife  arranged  before  him  tell  of 
an  expected  meal.  The  room  is  familiar  to  you ; 
you  have  seen  a  woman  bending  at  this  roughly 
built  fireplace  before.  Yes,  this  very  woman, 
though  looking  at  her  this  is  hard  to  believe. 
The  brown  hair  is  white  now,  snowy  white,  with 
no  faintest  fleck  of  color  to  mar  its  silvery 
glory.  The  cheeks  have  lost  their  soft  round- 
ness and  show  two  hollows,  and  a  heavy  line 
has  been  chiselled  from  the  nose  to  the  drooping 
corners  of  the  mouth.  Her  eyes  —  you  do  not 
care  to  meet  their  look  a  second  time,  for  in 
their  tragic  depths  lie  the  written  record  of  all 
that  she  has  suffered  in  these  two  years  and 
more. 

The  man  too  has  changed  somewhat  since 


The  Sword  of  Justice  37 

you  last  saw  him  and  heard  him  fling  his  evil 
gibes  after  the  sturdily  marching  figure  of  Henri 
Debre,  advancing  bravely  to  meet  unmerited 
death.  The  hair  then  so  black  has  whitened 
noticeably  over  the  temples,  and  the  look  of 
triumph  in  his  eyes  has  given  place  to  one  so 
complex,  that  it  is  not  easy  to  read  its  import. 
He  looks  baffled,  tricked,  flung  back  on  him- 
self. 

It  is  evident  that  his  easily  stirred  wrath  had 
been  lately  moved,  for  a  deep  cloud  hung  over 
his  brow,  and  his  sombre  eyes  were  fixed,  with 
a  look  which  seems  compounded  of  love  and 
hate,  on  the  woman's  every  move,  as  she  apa- 
thetically followed  her  task  of  preparing  his  noon- 
tide meal. 

He  watched  her  swing  the  pot  from  the  crane 
and  turn  its  warm  contents  —  a  savoury  stew  of 
game  —  into  the  basin  awaiting  it.  Having 
placed  it  before  him  on  the  table  and  brought 
a  loaf  from  the  cupboard,  with  a  wave  of  her 
hand  she  intimated  that  his  dinner  waited.  He 
glanced  into  her  stern  face,  and  for  a  moment 
the  lines  of  his  own  softened.  He  reached  his 
hand  toward  her,  not  ungently,  a  note  of  plead- 
ing in  his  voice  when  he  spoke ;  "  Sit  you  also 
with  me."  How  many  times  in  those  past  two 
years  had  he  uttered  those  brief  words,  some- 
times in  pleading,  often  in  command,  always  with 
the  same  result,  —  a  shake  of  the  head  from  the 
woman  who  had  stepped  out  of  reach  of  his 


38  The  Sword  of  Justice 

possible  touch.  A  fierce  scowl  brought  his 
brows  together  until  their  heavy  black  lines 
seemed  to  meet  over  his  nose,  giving  him  a 
more  sinister  look  than  before.  His  companion 
had  drawn  a  wooden  stool  to  the  other  side  of 
the  room,  near  by  an  open  window,  and  there 
sat,  half  turned  from  him,  gazing  aimlessly  over 
the  parade,  where  an  unwonted  stir  had  made 
the  place  busy  since  morning. 

Lavalatte  pushed  his  stool  from  the  table  with 
a  deep-mouthed  oath.  "  God  in  heaven,"  he 
burst  out  furiously,  "  is  it  to  be  believed  that 
such  a  frail  creature  as  you  could  stand  in  my 
path  for  years  and  oppose  yourself  to  me,  and 
yet  remain  unbent,  unbroken !  You  have  been 
my  desire  and  my  curse  since  my  boyhood, 
Amalie  de  Rengard."  He  would  not  call  her 
Debre,  frail  thing  though  she  was ;  he  dared  not 
use  toward  her  the  name  of  Lavalatte,  which  the 
people  of  the  Fort  gave  to  her  in  all  innocence. 
"  Then  I  tried  to  win  you  honestly  as  a  man 
might :  you  passed  me  by  for  Henri  Debre.  I 
would  not  give  you  up.  I  have  watched, 
waited,  planned  and  hoped,  even  followed  you 
to  this  wilderness.  My  hour  came,  I  saw  it,  I 
grasped  it,  you  were  mine  — "  his  voice  died 
away  choked  by  the  very  impotence  of  his 
wrath. 

She  scarcely  stirred  from  her  apathetic  atti- 
tude, but  her  eyes  turned  to  the  man's  anger- 
distorted  face.  "  If  it  were  not  for  the  foul  blot 


The  Sword  of  Justice  39 

of  dishonor  which  you  have  laid  on  me,  Philippe 
de  Lavalatte,  I  had  almost  been  moved  to  pity 
you  at  times,"  she  answered  in  a  voice  from 
which  all  feeling  had  spent  itself.  "  What  is 
there  in  my  poor  being  that  hath  so  wrought  on 
you?  If  I  ever  had  beauty,  God  knows  my 
tears  have  washed  it  away.  I  am  no  longer 
young.  Why,  why  must  you  still  cling  to  your 
mad  folly?  Let  me  go  free,  even  now,  Philippe, 
and  I  will  strive  in  time  to  forgive  you,  to  pray 
for  your  forgiveness  from  above." 

"Let  you  go,  now?"  he  questioned  fiercely. 
"  Woman,  I  have  never  possessed  you  yet.  I 
used  to  dream  that  if  I  could  have  your  body  to 
do  my  will  with  it  —  "  he  broke  off,  then  re- 
sumed after  a  moment,  "  I  have  had  it  these  two 
years.  It  has  been  mine  to  abuse  or  to  treat 
tenderly,  yet  in  all  this  time  have  I  not  come 
anear  you.  You  have  stood  apart  from  me  — 
aye,  even  from  yourself —  and  have  mocked  and 
tormented  me  as  never  before.  There  is  some- 
thing else  than  your  body  that  I  cannot  grasp, 
I  know  not  what  it  is." 

"  It  is  my  soul,  man.  You  have  befouled  my 
body,  but  the  immortal  within  me  has  stood 
apart  from  you,  from  the  contamination  of  your 
touch,  and  it  remains  clean  before  God.  The 
soul,  the  hereafter,  these  exist  not  for  you.  This 
body,  this  hour,  is  all  that  you  have  allowed ; 
but  the  soul  exists,  doubt  it  as  you  may,  the 
hereafter  waits,  disbelieve  it  as  you  will,  and 


4O  The  Sword  of  Justice 

while  breath  holds  in  this  mortal  part  of  me,  you 
may  keep  my  body  in  subjection,  but  you  can- 
not touch  my  unconquerable  soul."  She  had 
risen  in  speaking  and  stood  before  him,  her 
apathy  all  gone,  a  light  of  defiance  burning  in 
her  face  and  attitude. 

He  took  a  few  quick  steps  toward  her  and 
caught  her  hand  roughly  in  his.  "You  dare 
say  this,  to  brave  me  thus  ?  Have  you  no  fear 
that  I  will  strike  you  dead,  as  I  am  sometimes 
minded  to  do,  and  so  put  an  end  to  all  my 
torment." 

"  Oh,  if  you  only  would  !  Man  !  man  !  do  it, 
and  earn  from  me  the  first  word  of  gratitude. 
How  many  times  have  I  held  your  knife  in  my 
hand  and  looked  on  its  keen-edged  blade, 
knowing  that  one  little  thrust  would  prick 
the  life  from  me;  but  when  I  raised  it  to  do 
the  deed,  the  voice  from  Sinai  thundered  in  my 
ear,  '  Thou  shalt  not  kill,'  and  I  dropped  it,  not 
daring." 

Lavalatte  still  held  her  hand  and  gazed  at 
her,  the  baffled  look  deepening  in  his  eyes, 
realizing  as  he  did  how  completely  she  was 
beyond  his  touch,  beyond  fear,  or  love,  or 
passion. 

"  How  can  I  love  you  so,  hating  you  so?  "  he 
questioned  aloud.  Waiting  no  answer,  he  bent 
swiftly  and  placed  a  kiss  on  the  woman's  hand, 
and  turning  from  the  room  left  his  dinner  on 
the  table  to  grow  cold  unheeded. 


The  Sword  of  Justice  4 1 

She  had  received  his  fleeting  caress  passively, 
but  with  a  look  which  was  like  a  blow,  so  full 
was  it  of  expressed  repulsion.  This  did  not 
escape  his  quick  eyes,  and  he  carried  the  re- 
membrance with  him  as  he  stepped  outside ; 
carried  it  away  to  chafe  and  fret  him  as  he  had 
chafed  and  fretted  these  two  years,  until  his 
miserable  mind  seemed  only  a  chaos  of  con- 
tending passions,  none  strong  enough  to  master 
him  and  point  to  any  decided  course. 

Outside  he  took  his  stand  moodily  against  one 
of  the  palmetto-tree  trunks  which  served  as 
supporting  pillars  for  the  covered  passage  that 
ran  in  front  of  the  quarters.  He  gave  little 
heed  to  the  passing  to  and  fro  about  him,  or  the 
presence  on  the  parade  of  the  company  of  men- 
at-arms  who  had  accompanied  the  Adelantado 
to  San  Mateo  from  St.  Augustine  in  the  ship 
this  morning.  He  made  no  motion  to  join  any 
of  the  groups  of  laughing,  jesting  men,  nor 
offered  to  take  part  in  any  of  the  several  games 
of  plum-stones  which  were  going  merrily  for- 
ward. This  new  form  of  gambling,  picked  up 
from  the  Indians,  had  become  a  popular  pas- 
time for  the  many  idle  hours  spent  in  barracks. 
Lavalatte  merely  stood,  staring  moodily  before 
him,  waiting  for  nothing,  interested  in  noth- 
ing. Under  no  circumstance  was  he  given  to 
mixing  freely  with  the  Spaniards  in  their  pursuits 
or  amusements,  nor  when  he  did  so  was  he 
ever  sure  of  a  welcome.  He  found  the  words 


42  The  Sword  of  Justice 

"  renegade  "  and  "  coward  "  as  freely  fitted  to 
him  by  their  lips  as  they  had  been  by  his  French 
comrades. 

While  he  stood  thus  apart  from  all,  interested 
in  none,  a  light  Indian  canoe  was  shooting 
swiftly  up  the  river  under  the  sturdy  strokes  of 
the  paddle  in  the  hands  of  a  young  Indian.  In 
the  bow  of  the  canoe  sat  a  Franciscan,  his  black 
habit  making  a  dark  blot  in  the  landscape.  He 
wore  his  cowl  drawn  over  his  head  in  an  effort 
to  protect  himself  from  the  bright  rays  of  the 
sun.  Beads  of  perspiration  stood  thick  over  his 
almost  womanishly  gentle  face.  A  palmetto 
leaf  which  he  had  cut  and  trimmed  for  the  pur- 
pose served  him  as  a  fan,  and  he  was  plying  it 
vigorously,  for  he  was  short  of  neck  and  of  full 
habit,  and  the  blood  was  apt  to  go  easily  to  his 
head  and  remain  there. 

With  a  few  swift  strokes  the  Indian  beached 
the  canoe  in  a  spot  under  the  bluff  whence  a 
path  led  upward,  so  steep  that  in  places  steps 
had  been  cut  into  the  hard  earth  by  which  to 
ascend. 

The  priest  stepped  from  the  canoe.  Waiting 
only  long  enough  to  receive  his  part  of  the 
burden  from  the  stern,  he  tucked  his  black  habit 
through  the  cord  at  his  waist,  leaving  his  fat 
legs  exposed  to  view,  but  freer  to  climb  the 
steep  path.  The  Indian  shouldered  the  remain- 
ing part  of  the  baggage  and  followed  the  toiling, 
puffing,  figure  up  the  narrow  way.  Once  at 


The  Sword  of  Justice  43 

the  top  Father  Augustine  paused  long  enough 
to  get  a  few  deep  breaths  and  mop  his  stream- 
ing face,  before  he  resumed  his  burden  and 
took  his  way  toward  the  Fort  gate.  Since  com- 
ing around  the  bend  in  the  river  his  eyes,  which 
had  quickly  spied  the  small  ship  anchored  off 
the  Fort,  had  turned  constantly  toward  her,  and 
it  was  curiosity  that  hurried  his  steps  now  as 
he  advanced  to  the  gate. 

"  Ah,  Manuel,  what  goes  forward  ?  For  what 
reason  does  the  ship  ride  at  anchor  in  the 
river?"  the  old  fellow  demanded  of  the  soldier 
who  swung  open  the  gate  in  answer  to  his 
summons. 

"Tis  the  Adelantado,  who  comes  to  inspect 
the  Fort  and  to  leave  his  orders  ere  he  sails  for 
Spain,  as  he  is  shortly  to  do.  But  you,  Father, 
how  have  you  prospered  in  your  undertaking? 
You  have  been  this  long  time  absent,  and  we 
were  for  fearing  that  those  Indian  devils  had 
taken  your  scalp  from  you,"  answered  the  man, 
in  a  tone  whose  kindly  raillery  spoke  his  liking 
for  the  priest. 

"  As  to  that,  my  son,  the  saints  be  praised, 
they  cannot  relieve  me  of  it,"  he  chuckled 
softly,  rubbing  his  hand  over  his  tonsured  head. 
"  Truth  to  say,  I  find  them  as  little  disposed  to 
molest  me,  as  to  hear  my  preaching."  The  old 
fellow's  laugh  was  quickly  followed  by  a  sigh. 
"  Shall  I  tell  you  what  their  great  chief  Satouri- 
ona  said  to  me  but  now,  and,  by  the  holy  Vir- 


44  The  Sword  of  Justice 

gin,  he  has  much  reason  in  his  arraignment. 
'  The  white  man's  god  has  no  strength ;  he  is  as 
an  old  woman,  since  he  cannot  change  the 
hearts  of  my  white  brothers.  My  white  brother 
steals  my  corn,  he  murders  my  warriors,  he 
takes  my  squaws.  Go  tell  your  god  to  speak 
to  the  hearts  of  his  own  people,  and  when  they 
have  listened,  come  then,  and  the  Indian  heart 
may  be  open  to  his  words.' "  He  strove  to 
look  sternly  on  the  young  fellow,  but  the  kindly 
lines  of  his  face  refused  to  lend  themselves  to 
a  very  rebuking  gaze,  and  a  whimsical  sadness 
was  about  the  only  result. 

"Tortures  and  inquisition,  Father,"  exclaimed 
the  youth  gayly ;  "  whatever  gave  you  to  think 
that  I  came  to  this  land  of  misery  to  be  a  pat- 
tern of  sainthood  to  my  heathen  brother.  I 
came  here  to  fight  heretics  and  get  gold.  As 
for  the  first,  I  have  done  my  share  of  that, 
and  as  to  the  other  — "  he  slapped  his  empty 
pockets  for  finish  of  his  sentence  and  gave  a 
slight  shrug  of  the  shoulders,  as  if  to  dismiss 
his  disappointment  as  lightly  as  possible. 

"  Oh,  Manuel,  Manuel,"  grumbled  the  old 
man  sadly,  moving  slowly  away,  "  how  can  I 
ever  bring  you  to  a  conviction  of  your  evil 
doing?"  He  continued  to  shake  his  head  sor- 
rowfully even  after  he  had  passed  on  some 
distance,  as  if  indeed  he  were  punctuating  his 
silent  thought  with  his  bobbing  head.  Not 
until  he  had  almost  stumbled  against  Lava- 


The  Sword  of  Justice  45 

latte's  quiet  figure  did  he  seem  to  see  or  heed 
his  direction. 

"  Pardon,  pardon,  my  son,"  he  exclaimed, 
drawing  back  in  time  to  avoid  a  collision ;  then, 
as  if  a  new  train  of  thought  had  leaped  sud- 
denly into  his  head,  he  demanded  sharply, 
"  Sieur  de  Lavalatte,  had  you  ever  a  son?  " 

The  blood  flashed  hot  into  Philippe's  face. 
"  No,"  he  answered. 

"  And  Madame,  your  wife,  before  the  —  when 
the  French  occupied  the  Fort,"  he  corrected 
himself  quickly;  "had  she,  perhaps,  a  brother 
much  younger  than  herself?  " 

"No;  Madame  is  alone  in  this  country  save 
for  myself,"  answered  the  Frenchman  shortly. 

"  Strange,  strange,"  muttered  the  priest,  shak- 
ing his  head.  "  There  is  within  the  lodge  of 
the  chief  Satouriona  a  lad  of  about  twenty 
who  wears  a  face  so  like  to  that  of  Madame, 
your  wife,  I  doubted  not  that  he  must  be 
her  son.  'T  is  a  marvellous  resemblance.  The 
Indians  refuse  to  say  whence  he  came,  or  to 
give  him  up,  though  I  offered  a  goodly  store 
of  beads,  mirrors,  and  gewgaws  for  his  ransom. 
Well,  I  must  not  tarry,  for  I  would  see  the 
Adelantado  before  he  departs ;  "  and  the  old 
fellow  shouldered  his  burden,  dropped  for  a 
moment  as  he  talked,  and  passed  slowly  on, 
followed,  after  a  moment's  hesitation  and  a 
hasty  glance  toward  the  open  door  of  his 
room,  by  Lavalatte. 


46  The  Sword  of  Justice 

An  hour  later,  when  he  returned  to  his  quar- 
ters after  having  watched  the  going  of  the 
Adelantado,  and  held  his  small  part  in  the  ex- 
citement of  firing  the  salute  which  boomed  after 
the  departing  vessel,  Lavalatte  scanned  the  face 
of  the  woman  who  bore  his  name,  trying,  if  pos- 
sible, to  read  in  it  any  suspicion  of  the  knowledge 
which  had  but  lately  come  to  him.  Nothing 
seemed  to  have  ruffled  her  apathetic  calm,  and 
he  decided  with  a  sigh  of  relief  that  Father 
Augustine's  words  had  not  reached  her  ears. 

He  would  not  have  felt  so  satisfied  on  this 
point  had  he  seen  her  that  night  while  he 
walked  his  turn  as  sentry  on  the  rampart, 
standing  before  the  priest's  door  with  hand 
upraised  to  knock. 

When  the  old  man  answered  the  summons 
and  faced  his  visitor,  he  stood  before  her  with 
the  same  inward  shrinking  which  he  ever  felt 
in  her  presence,  strive  as  he  might  against  it. 
She  embodied  for  him  so  much  that  he  had 
rather  forget.  He  had  not  been  at  Fort  Caro- 
line during  the  massacre,  but  he  came  from 
San  Augustine  so  soon  after,  that  enough  traces 
remained  of  the  bloody  work  to  disgust  his 
gentle  heart,  and  often  give  him  evil  dreams 
at  night.  His  was  a  kindly  nature,  and  one 
having  in  it  a  larger  sense  of  justice  than 
those  of  his  day  usually  possessed,  —  a  day 
when  might  was  the  only  justification  neces- 
sary for  any  act  of  blood  or  oppression. 


The  Sword  of  Justice  47 

To  be  sure,  Madame  de  Lavalatte  was  not  the 
only  one  of  the  French  within  the  walls  of  San 
Mateo,  but  the  sunny  face  of  Eugenie  Brissot, 
or  the  heavy,  kindly  one  of  Jean,  her  father, 
who  went  about  his  task  of  carpentering  with 
little  thought  beyond  his  tools,  —  these  did 
not  disquiet  father  Augustine  as  did  Madame 
de  Lavalatte.  He  shrunk  from  the  sight  of 
her  tragic  eyes,  her  face  with  its  unnatural 
pallor.  She  came  in  time  to  be  for  him  the 
materialized  spirit  of  all  those  poor  ghosts 
with  which  his  superstitious  fancy  peopled  the 
spot 

All  this,  however,  but  gave  his  bearing  toward 
her  the  greater  gentleness.  He  greeted  her 
now  with  no  hint  of  his  inward  feeling  visible 
even  to  the  most  careful  eye. 

"  I  give  you  welcome,  daughter,"  he  uttered 
kindly  as  he  closed  the  door  behind  her.  "  In 
what  can  I  serve  you  ?  Is  it  that  you  have  at 
length  repented  of  your  heresies  and  have  come 
to  crave  the  blessing  of  the  holy  Church?"  A 
little  gleam  of  hope  came  into  his  eyes. 

"  Nay,  Father,  have  done  with  fretting  your 
soul  over  that  which  you  deem  my  sinful 
heresy,"  she  answered  with  a  little  impatient 
wave  of  her  hand.  "  Not  now,  or  ever,  will 
the  hour  come  when  you  will  find  me  seeking 
the  blessing  of  your  religion." 

"  Say  not  so,  daughter,  lest  your  stubborn 
pride  bring  a  worse  thing  upon  you  than  any 


48  The  Sword  of  Justice 

which  hath  already  befallen.  In  that  awful 
time  through  which  you  have  passed,  see  you 
not  in  it  a  judgment  from  God  because  of  your 
sinful  unbelief?  " 

"  The  worst  that  can,  has  befallen  me,  Father 
Augustine ;  there  is  nothing  left  to  fear  now ; 
nor  do  I  see  aught  in  that  awful  time  of  which 
you  speak,  but  the  savage  cruelty  of  man.  Let 
that  be ;  I  came  not  here  to  discuss  such  mat- 
ters, but  rather  to  prefer  a  request  of  you, 
which  I  pray  you,  of  your  mercy,  grant  me 
without  question.  I  heard  you  this  day  speak 
to  Philippe  de  Lavalatte  of  a  French  boy  who 
dwells  among  the  Indians.  Say  no  word  of 
him  to  the  commandant  of  the  Fort,  or  indeed 
to  any.  I  beseech  you  hear  me  in  this." 

The  old  priest's  face  took  on  a  look  of  per- 
plexed trouble.  He  answered  after  some  hesi- 
tation, "  I  would  I  had  known  of  your  desire 
earlier,  though  I  cannot  compass  your  reason 
for  so  strange  a  request.  As  soon  as  I  came, 
I  laid  the  matter  before  the  Adelantado,  who 
hath  given  orders  to  the  commandant  to  make 
a  better  offer  of  goods  to  the  Indians  in  ex- 
change for  the  young  man,  and  failing  to  get 
him  in  this  peaceable  manner,  to  send  out  a 
party  to  capture  him  by  stealth  and  bring  him 
hither.  Indeed,  Madame,  your  husband,  the 
Sieur  de  Lavalatte  himself,  followed  me  into 
the  Adelantado's  presence  and  strongly  urged 
this  course,  lest  the  youth,  being  a  Huguenot, 


The  Sword  of  Justice  49 

corrupt  these  poor  heathen  by  his  vile  here- 
sies. I  would  that  you,  my  daughter,  could 
bring  your  heart  to  see  things  aright,  even  as 
your  lord,  the  Sieur  de  Lavalatte,  hath  done," 
concluded  the  old  man  sadly. 

The  woman  had  put  her  hands  before  her 
face  with  a  groan  of  terror.  "  I  was  wrong," 
she  murmured  almost  inaudibly;  "  there  is  yet 
one  thing  to  fear  in  this  awful  world." 

The  priest  looked  at  her  with  troubled,  pitiful 
eyes ;  he  touched  her  gently  on  the  arm.  "  If 
it  is  that  you  fear  for  the  life  of  this  youth, 
my  daughter,  you  do  wrongly.  No  harm  is 
intended  toward  him.  He  is  to  be  caught 
and  kept  until  communication  is  held  with 
the  Adelantado,  or,  if  he  has  then  sailed  for 
Spain,  with  his  confessor,  Mendoza." 

The  woman  shook  off  his  hand,  nor  seemed 
to  heed  his  words.  She  turned,  and  with  her 
face  still  covered  stumbled  toward  the  door, 
feeling  blindly  for  the  latch.  She  was  gone 
in  a  moment,  leaving  the  priest  staring  after 
her  in  perplexed  wonder. 


50  The  Sword  of  Justice 


CHAPTER  II 

To  the  north  of  Fort  San  Mateo,  not  far  distant 
from  the  river  called  by  the  Indians  Tacata- 
courou,  was  situated  the  most  important  of  the 
villages  that  dotted  the  territory  ruled  by  the 
great  chief  Satouriona.  About  this  village  for 
a  wide  distance  the  country  had  been  cleared, 
and  the  greenish  brown  of  the  dead  corn-stalks 
and  leaves,  the  blackened  bean-pods  on  the 
already  withered  vines,  the  pumpkins  lying 
like  huge  nuggets  of  gold  scattered  over  the 
ground,  told  of  thrift  bringing  forth  its  reward 
in  abundant  harvest.  The  village  itself  was 
enclosed  within  a  stout  palisade  well  calculated 
to  offer  resistance  to  Indian  enemies.  The  huts 
grouped  within  were  dome-shaped,  and  built 
of  flexible  saplings  planted  in  the  earth  and 
bent  together,  meeting  in  a  common  centre, 
where  they  were  firmly  bound.  A  thick  thatch 
of  palmetto  leaves  covered  these  poles  and  con- 
stituted a  roof,  sun-proof  and  fairly  water-tight. 
In  the  middle  of  the  village  an  artificial  mound 
of  great  size,  and  at  least  twenty  feet  in  height, 
had  been  laboriously  constructed,  and  on  this 
mound,  overlooking  every  hut  in  the  village 


The  Sword  of  Justice  5 1 

and  the  fields  beyond,  was  situated  a  lodge, 
built  as  the  others,  but  far  greater  in  size,  and 
surrounded  by  several  smaller  huts. 

Within  the  great  lodge,  when  the  weather 
demanded  it,  a  fire  was  kindled.  Some  of 
the  smoke  escaped  through  a  hole  left  for  this 
purpose  directly  above  in  the  thatch.  What 
did  not  so  find  vent  diffused  itself  through  the 
surrounding  space,  and  cast  a  softening  haze 
over  the  rude  scene  and  the  harsh  faces 
grouped  about  the  fire. 

Each  member  of  this  little  community  had  a 
fixed  seat  and  sleeping  place  allotted  to  him 
which  another  of  the  household  —  by  that  un- 
written law  which  governs  even  in  the  lodge  of 
a  savage  —  might  not  usurp,  though  it  was 
often  yielded  with  grace  to  a  visitor.  Behind 
each  man's  seat,  against  the  wall,  hung  his  bow 
and  quiver,  his  flint-head  tomahawk  and  deer 
robe,  or  any  other  of  his  simple  belongings. 

Even  the  women  had  their  allotted  places 
here,  where  around  the  evening  fire  they  were 
permitted  to  sit  in  silent  self-effacement,  listen- 
ing to  the  wild  fables  with  which  the  Indian 
delights  to  exercise  his  imaginative  mind,  or 
the  blood-stirring  vaunts  of  past  battles  and 
victories. 

No  fire  burned  in  the  lodge  now,  for  noonday 
heat  spread  over  the  earth,  and  the  sun  took  the 
world  into  a  warm  embrace.  Neither  were  the 
braves  of  the  chief's  household  gathered  within. 


52  The  Sword  of  Justice 

Only  Satouriona  himself  sat  at  the  opening  of  the 
lodge  and  smoked.  Despite  his  sitting  posture, 
which  doubled  up  his  mighty  limbs,  the  most 
casual  glance  revealed  him  to  be  a  man  of  unus- 
ual height,  even  among  this  tribe  of  tall  men. 
Knotty  bunches  of  muscle  took  away  from  the 
perfect  symmetry  of  his  unclad  limbs,  but  gave 
him  a  look  of  strength  which  more  than  com- 
pensated. He  wore  only  the  aziam,  or  loin 
cloth,  falling,  before  and  behind,  from  a  belt 
on  which  depended  tinkling  bits  of  bright 
metal.  Around  the  bronze  column  of  his  throat 
lay  a  necklace  of  curving  bear  claws.  His 
broad  chest  was  profusely  tattooed  with  rude 
arabesques,  among  which  the  alligator,  his  totem, 
was  easily  distinguishable. 

He  had  the  high  cheek-bone  of  the  Indian 
races,  but  his  face,  less  broad  and  heavy,  wore 
a  look  of  unusual  intelligence,  and  the  dignity 
which  comes  of  years  of  command  lent  it  an 
almost  refining  touch.  In  his  coarse,  black  hair 
lock  two  eagle  feathers  were  stuck.  His  feet 
were  shod  with  soft  moccasins  of  tanned  deer's 
hide,  stained  and  ornamented  across  the  toe  and 
around  the  top. 

Just  outside  the  lodge,  leaning  in  dreamy 
idleness  against  it,  sat  another  figure  which  at 
first  glance  you  would  also  have  taken  to  be  an 
Indian.  A  second  look,  however,  would  have 
reversed  this  decision,  for  from  no  savage  or 
silent  race  came  that  mouth,  with  its  deeply 


The  Sword  of  Justice  53 

dented  curve  under  the  nose,  its  flexible  lips 
reclaimed  from  awkward  disuse  by  ancestors 
who  had  dwelt  for  centuries  among  their  kind 
in  happy  companionship.  The  black  hair  lock 
worn  as  the  Indian's,  the  high  cheek-bone,  the 
warm,  red  brown  of  the  satin-smooth  skin,  burned 
by  the  sun  and  stained  by  the  nut  oil  with  which 
the  whole  body  had  been  freely  rubbed  until  it 
was  soft  and  pliable  and  polished  as  a  bronze 
statue, — these  things  might  have  deceived  you 
as  to  his  race ;  but  the  mouth,  the  large  brown 
eyes,  whose  expression,  though  vacant,  bespoke 
a  higher  intelligence,  the  straight,  delicately 
marked  eyebrows,  and  the  nose,  which,  though 
not  small,  was  finely  modelled,  —  these  things 
spoke  eloquently  of  a  different  civilization. 

Suddenly  the  youth  outside  withdrew  his  gaze 
from  vacancy,  and  turning  toward  the  chief,  a 
perplexed  wrinkle  showing  over  his  nose,  he 
demanded  in  a  tone  of  respectful  questioning,  — 

"  My  father,  have  I  always  dwelt  here  in  this 
lodge,  or  did  I  once  live  — "  he  paused,  his 
mind  seemed  to  be  groping  after  some  broken 
thread  of  remembrance. 

It  was  some  time  before  the  Indian  answered, 
and  he  hardly  deigned  to  turn  his  eyes  toward 
the  young  face  that  questioned  him  so  eagerly. 

"Who  can  tell,  Chepane?  The  Master  of 
Breath,  he  only  can  say  how  often  he  has 
breathed  life  into  any." 

"  No,   not  that,  my  father,"   the  youth  was 


54  The  Sword  of  Justice 

beginning  again,  when  the  chief,  who  seemed  to 
give  no  further  heed,  rose  from  his  seat,  and 
turning  from  the  lodge  strode  off  down  the  little 
well-worn  path  which  led  to  the  village  below. 

Chepane's  eyes  followed  him,  irritation  ming- 
ling now  with  their  perplexity.  Why  was  it 
that  these  moments  of  painful  struggle  came  to 
him,  and  why  were  his  simple  questions  always 
turned  aside  or  cut  off?  He,  Chepane,  was 
not  like  Olotoraca  or  Athore;  his  very  name 
Chepane  was  no  name.  It  merely  signified 
"  a  boy ; "  and  his  life  seemed  such  a  little 
thing  in  looking  back.  He  could  remember 
but  three  Falling  Leaf  moons ;  he  had  notched 
the  record  of  them  out  there  on  the  bark  of  the 
young  pine-tree,  and  the  last  one  was  so  lately 
cut  that  it  still  showed  raw,  like  a  green  wound. 
His  recollection  of  the  first  was  very  dim ;  he 
seemed  to  see  the  full  moon  always  shining 
through  the  lodge  opening,  and  he  was  lying 
down,  looking  up  at  it;  his  head  pained  him, 
and  figures  passed  before  him  in  a  haze,  — 
everything  was  dim,  as  when  the  light  is  just 
going  from  the  evening  sky.  Athore,  who  was 
no  taller  or  stronger  than  he,  could  remember 
many  Falling  Leaf  moons  without  even  a  notch 
on  the  pine-tree  to  help  him.  He  could  remem- 
ber, besides,  his  first  killing,  even  when  little 
more  than  a  papoose,  also  the  first  time  his 
traps  had  caught,  and  many  other  things,  while 
he,  Chepane  —  the  perplexed  look  deepened  to 


The  Sword  of  Justice  55 

one  of  almost  pain.  He  moved  his  head 
wearily  as  if  to  rid  himself  of  fretting  thoughts. 
Overhead  the  sky  curved  to  the  earth  like  a 
deep  blue  bell,  not  a  fleck  of  cloud  to  mar  its 
rich  color.  The  sun  was  slipping  down  the 
afternoon  sky  to  its  sudden  setting.  In  the  dis- 
tant field  the  Indian  women  toiled,  gathering 
the  harvest  and  bringing  it  to  the  village  gran- 
ary. Chepane  watched  them.  They,  indeed, 
were  the  first  cause  of  his  struggling  thoughts. 
The  sunshine  over  the  fields,  the  bending  backs 
of  these  toiling  women,  never  failed  to  arouse 
in  him  the  effort  to  grasp  a  past  which  ever 
eluded  him. 

While  Chepane  wearily  strove  to  unravel  the 
tangle  in  his  brain,  Satouriona's  massive  figure 
strode  down  the  narrow  pathway.  Having 
reached  the  village  below,  he  skirted  the  open 
square  upon  which  the  Indians  gathered  in 
times  of  festival  or  council,  and  turned  his  steps 
toward  a  palmetto  hut  which  stood  on  the  out- 
skirts of  a  group  close  under  the  palisade,  and 
drawn  a  little  apart  from  its  neighbors,  as  if  in 
an  effort  to  seek  solitude. 

At  the  entrance  of  this  hut  the  chief  bent  his 
tall  shoulders  to  accommodate  them  to  the  low 
opening,  and,  passing  into  the  dim  interior, 
seated  himself  without  ceremony  before  a  figure 
crouching  in  the  centre  of  the  lodge.  It  was 
hard  to  say  with  certainty  if  this  were  the  shape 


56  The  Sword  of  Justice 

of  man  or  ape ;  it  was,  in  fact,  Helmacarpa,  the 
great  medicine-man  of  the  tribe,  venerated  alike 
for  his  great  age  and  wonderful  wisdom.  By 
interpretations  and  dreams,  by  severe  fasting 
and  absolute  indifference  to  worldly  reward  or 
punishment,  because  he  sought  solitude  and 
seldom  went  in  public,  this,  with  his  uncanny 
appearance,  had  won  for  him  not  only  a  high 
position  and  influence  in  his  own  village,  but 
throughout  all  the  dependencies  of  Satouriona's 
territory. 

The  old  man  sat  now  oblivious  of  his  visitor, 
his  eyes  staring  fixedly  before  him.  His  face 
was  wizened  by  time,  until  it  was  but  a  mass  of 
copper-colored  wrinkles ;  most  of  his  teeth  were 
gone,  and  his  nose  had  lost  all  superfluous  flesh 
and  become  merely  a  hawk-like  beak.  One 
eye  had  been  gouged  out  in  some  past  youthful 
encounter,  and  over  this  he  wore  a  bit  of  tanned 
buckskin,  blackened  by  time  and  dirt.  How 
the  loss  of  this  eye  had  occurred  none  knew, 
since  the  memory  of  no  man  in  the  tribe  reached 
back  so  far.  Indeed  they  did  not  interest  them- 
selves in  the  matter,  but  accepted  without 
question  Helmacarpa's  own  version  of  the  story, 
"  that  the  Master  of  Breath  had  torn  it  from  its 
socket,  and  set  in  its  place  an  invisible  eye 
which  saw  things  to  come,  as  if  they  already 
were."  Despite  the  extreme  warmth  of  the  sun, 
the  old  man  was  clad  in  his  fringed  deerskin 
leggins,  reaching  to  the  thigh  and  fastened  to 


T lie  Sword  of  Justice  57 

the  belt  which  held  his  aziam,  and  a  shirt  of  the 
same  skin  covered  his  body.  This  costume 
the  tribe  never  donned  until  the  damp  chill  of 
winter  drove  them  to  it,  and  from  it  they  quickly 
emerged  so  soon  as  the  sun  shone  warm  enough 
in  the  early  spring.  In  spite  of  this  covering 
the  shrunken  old  figure  shivered  from  time  to 
time  as  if  he  already  felt  the  coldness  of  the 
grave  which  yawned  so  near,  awaiting  him. 

Satouriona,  squatting  in  front  of  the  vacant 
eyes  of  the  seer,  waited  with  stolid  patience 
until  he  was  minded  to  give  him  notice.  Great 
chief  though  he  was,  he  had  not  the  temerity  to 
interrupt  the  "  medicine  "  of  Helmacarpa.  It 
would  have  been  counted  an  irreligious  act,  and 
one  deserving  of  swift  punishment  from  above. 

After  a  long  time,  in  which  the  sun  climbed 
down  the  heavens  until  it  sent  golden  lances  of 
light  almost  horizontally  across  the  earth,  and 
the  evening  sounds  of  home-seeking  birds  began 
to  tell  of  the  swift  approach  of  night,  the  medi- 
cine-man stirred,  moved  his  eyes,  into  which  a 
look  of  intelligence  had  slowly  crept,  and  for  the 
first  time  noticed  the  waiting  chief.  Possibly  it 
was  to  the  bright  rays  of  the  sun  shining  directly 
through  the  lodge  opening  and  into  the  one 
good  eye  of  the  old  man,  that  Satouriona  owed 
this  attention  at  last;  for  it  was  not  until  Hel- 
macarpa had  shifted  his  position  ever  so  little 
to  relieve  himself  of  this  annoyance  that  he 
addressed  the  silent  warrior  before  him. 


58  The  Sword  of  Justice 

\ 

"  Why  does  the  father  of  my  people  seek 
me?  "  he  asked,  bending  his  one  eye  on  the  chief 
as  if  he  would  pierce  him  with  his  intense,  con- 
centrated gaze.  "  War  threatens  not  with  his 
Indian  brother  or  his  white  enemies." 

"  Thou  hast  been  a  long  time  gone,  Helma- 
carpa,"  replied  the  chief.  It  was  his  only  protest 
against  this  hour  of  waiting,  but  he  could  not 
forego  it. 

"  I  haste  for  no  man,"  the  old  powwow  replied, 
conscious  superiority  in  his  calm  rebuke.  "  I 
come  from  far,  even  from  over  great  waters. 
Why  does  the  father  of  my  people  seek  me  ?  "  he 
demanded  a  second  time. 

"  I  come  to  hear  your  words  of  wisdom  con- 
cerning my  white  son  Chepane ;  "  then,  as  Hel- 
macarpa  answered  nothing,  but  seemed  rather 
to  wait  his  further  speech,  he  continued :  "  He 
hath  sat  at  my  lodge  fire  and  dwelt  with 
my  people  these  many  moons,  even  as  my  son 
Athore,  or  the  son  of  my  sister  who  succeeds 
me,  Olotoraca.1  I  know  not  how  many  times 
the  Big  Harvest  moon  has  risen  over  him,  for 
the  Master  of  Breath  hath  laid  his  finger  on  the 
eye  of  his  mind,  and  he  no  longer  sees  the  days 
behind  him ;  but  by  his  size,  his  thews  and 
sinews,  I  judge  him  a  man  grown.  It  is  time 
he  sought  '  Puyafiktcha,' 2  and  became  as  the 

1  With  the  Indians,  the  succession  is  through  the  women. 

2  This  word  for  familiar  or  guardian  spirit  in  Creek  is  the 
same  for  ghost,  soul,  spirit,  in  general.     It  properly  means  "  our 


The  Sword  of  Justice  59 

other  young  braves.  He  shall  dwell  here,  take 
a  squaw  from  among  my  people,  and  be  always 
as  my  son ;  for  never  will  I  give  him  unto  the 
black-hearted  white  men,  though  less  than  a 
moon  ago  one  wearing  a  covering  as  black  as 
his  heart,  and  having  already  been  scalped, 
offered  me  great  store  of  goods  to  part  with 
him."  This  was  a  tremendously  long  speech 
for  the  taciturn  tongue  of  the  chief,  and  he 
waited  now  as  if  all  was  said. 

"  The  father  of  my  people  is  deceived : 
Chepane  will  not  take  a  squaw  from  among  our 
lodges,  nor  will  he  dwell  here  always  as  your 
son.  He  will  take  a  squaw  from  among  his 
own  people,  and  will  dwell  with  her  until  he  goes 
beyond  the  big  water  and  is  lost  to  the  eyes  of 
his  father.  I  have  but  this  hour  come  from 
seeing  the  people  of  wooden  vessels  who  are 
to  bear  him  hence.  The  prows  of  their  great 
canoes  are  even  now  turned  toward  this  land,  and 
many  backs  are  bent  to  the  paddles.1  The  big 
chief  of  the  vessels,  he  comes  to  be  the  friend  of 
the  red  man  against  these  black-hearted  ones 
who  rob  us  of  our  stores  and  defile  our  squaws." 

spirit."  The  root  is  "  figi,"  or  "  fiki,"  heart,  a  term  which  forms 
a  large  number  of  derivations  in  Creek  and  probably  in  all  In- 
dian languages.  Pu-yafiktcha  also  means  hobgoblin,  spectre, 
ghost,  and  soul,  the  y  pointing  to  the  fact  that  it  is  some- 
body's, or  innate  to  human  beings.  —  Albert  Gatchet,  Bureau 
Am.  Eth. 

1  The  vessels  of  Gourgues  were  of  very  light  draught,  and 
could  go  by  oars  in  a  calm.  —  Charlevoix. 


60  The  Sword  of  Justice 

The  face  of  Satouriona  lighted  with  a  fierce 
joy.  "  How  soon  comes  he,  Helmacarpa?"  he 
demanded,  his  eyes  flashing,  his  nostrils  quiver- 
ing in  his  eagerness. 

"  The  Big  Winter  moon  will  pass,  and  his 
younger  brother  the  Little  Winter  moon  will 
wane  also  and  mayhap  even  the  Windy  moon. 
Who  can  say  but  the  spirit  that  rules  the  big 
waters,  and  makes  the  waves  to  stand  on  end, 
when  any  offend  him?" 

The  chief  arose,  the  light  of  joy  in  his  face  at 
the  promise  of  this  longed-for  help. 

"Then  will  I  send  Chepane  forth  to  seek 
'  Puyafiktcha,'  that  he  may  take  the  war-path 
with  the  other  braves  when  the  time  is  ripe,"  he 
announced,  with  decision. 

"  Send  him,"  repeated  the  seer  oracularly, 
"  that  his  eyes  may  be  open  to  know  his 
enemy." 


The  Sword  of  Justice  61 


CHAPTER  III 

FIVE  days  later,  far  from  the  lodge  of  Satou- 
riona,  lying  on  a  knoll  where  a  break  in  the 
forest  left  a  spot  of  open,  Pierre  watched  with 
sinking  heart  and  hungry  stomach  for  the  com- 
ing of  "  Puyafiktcha."  Two  dawns  before  he 
had  waited  in  front  of  the  lodge  of  his  adopted 
father,  his  quiver  across  his  shoulder,  his  bow  in 
his  left  hand,  a  bag  of  parched  corn  hung  from 
his  belt,  while  in  his  right  hand  he  bore  a  burn- 
ing fagot  from  the  lodge  of  Helmacarpa  the 
medicine-man,  with  which  to  light  his  own 
watch-fire. 

"Turn  your  face  toward  the  south,"  com- 
manded the  chief  solemnly ;  "  go  many  steps, 
until  the  sun  is  high.  Seek  out  a  hill  spot  and 
light  your  watch-fire.  There  remain,  talk  with 
your  heart,  and  wait  the  coming  of '  Puyafiktcha.' 
Let  not  a  grain  of  corn  pass  the  door  of  your 
stomach,  but  wait,  empty,  even  if  the  hunger-fox 
fastens  his  teeth  in  your  entrails  and  tears  them. 
Let  the  dawn  come  and  go  more  times  than 
one  ere  you  eat,  if  you  would  be  strong  in 
battle  and  wise  in  council.  The  longer  you 
wait  the  stronger  you  will  be.  When  you  have 


62  The  Sword  of  Justice 

seen  and  chosen,  eat,  and  come  again  to  the 
lodge  of  your  father." 

Chepane  had  turned  an  obedient  face  south- 
ward, and  sought  out  the  hill  spot  where  he  now 
lay.  All  that  first  day  he  had  watched  faith- 
fully beside  his  blazing  fire,  until  night  fell. 
Dawn  came  again,  and  through  the  length  of 
another  day's  warm  sun  he  watched  and  waited ; 
and  another  night  came  and  passed,  and  still  no 
spirit  appeared  to  offer  him  guardianship.  He 
lacked  the  vivid  imaginative  mind  of  the  Indian 
wherewith  to  convert  the  usual  sights  and 
sounds  of  the  forest,  the  bright  flutter  of  a  bird's 
wing,  the  swift  course  of  the  lizard  across  his 
open  space,  into  a  visitation  of  spirits. 

The  second  dawn  was  breaking  in  grayness ; 
as  the  light  came  creeping  over  the  earth  he 
opened  his  sleep-locked  eyes  and  flung  from 
him  the  deerskin  in  which  he  had  been  rolled, 
damp  with  the  night  dew.  The  fox  at  his 
entrails  was  nibbling  with  sharp  teeth,  and  even 
before  he  bestirred  himself  to  waken  his  fire 
from  glowing  coals  to  a  bright  blaze,  he  turned 
a  longing  gaze  toward  the  pile  of  parched  corn, 
dew-wet  and  tempting,  so  close  within  his  reach. 
He  even  stretched  a  hand  toward  it  once,  but 
drew  it  back.  No,  not  yet.  He  could  not,  he 
would  not,  return  to  the  lodge  of  his  father  and 
say  that  "  Puyafiktcha  "  had  not  appeared  to  him 
to  direct  his  way  in  life,  to  tell  him  he  must  be 
a  warrior  as  were  all  in  his  father's  lodge,  or  if 


The  Sword  of  Justice  63 

this  was  not  to  be,  to  say  to  him  that  he  must 
content  himself  even  as  a  humble  arrow-maker 
like  Chuli.  Nothing  !  Why,  then,  what  remained 
to  him  but  to  dwell  in  the  lodge  of  the  squaws, 
and  bend  his  back  to  plough  and  reap  the  field, 
even  as  they.  His  lips  closed  with  firmer  deter- 
mination at  the  thought,  and  he  drew  tighter 
the  belt  about  his  middle,  so  that  the  gnawing 
fox  within  would  have  a  little  less  of  space  in 
which  to  torment  him. 

After  this  he  brought  fresh  fagots  to  the  fire 
and  coaxed  the  glowing  coals  into  a  blaze ;  this 
done  he  flung  himself  on  the  earth  again,  keep- 
ing watchful  eyes  open  lest  any  message  or 
indication  of  the  coming  of  his  guardian  escape 
him. 

Two  days  of  fasting  had  spread  a  pallor  over 
his  face  which  showed  even  under  the  brownness 
of  his  skin,  and  his  cheeks  began  to  have  gaunt 
little  hollows  in  their  roundness.  His  head  felt 
light  and  giddy,  as  if  it  were  disconnected  from 
his  body  and  swimming  in  space.  It  drooped 
lower  and  lower  from  very  weariness,  and  softly 
in  the  gray  morning  he  slept  again. 

And  while  he  slept,  through  the  woods  com- 
ing toward  him  so  lightly  she  scarcely  startled 
the  wild  things  that  frequent  the  forest  was  a 
woman  wrapped  about  in  a  long  gray  cloak,  the 
hood  of  which  she  had  thrust  back  from  her 
snowy  hair.  Out  of  the  woods  she  passed  into 
the  open  space  where  the  fire  burned  and  the 


64  The  Sword  of  Justice 

boy  slept.  There  she  stood  over  against  him, 
gazing  down  upon  him  with  eyes  that  refused 
to  believe  the  miracle  before  her. 

A  slight  noise,  or  perhaps  her  intent  gaze, 
caused  the  light  sleeper  to  stir.  His  eyes 
unclose  slowly,  his  scattered  thoughts  refuse  to 
come  quickly  at  his  call.  At  sight  of  the  silent, 
intent  figure  his  heart  leaped  with  joy.  At 
last!  Puyafiktcha!  A  great  white  spirit  who 
stands  above  him  ready  to  speak,  to  tell  him 
his  fate;  a  white  spirit  all  wrapped  about  in 
the  gray  mist  of  the  early  dawn. 

"  Pierre,  my  son." 

The  cry  smote  his  ear,  echoed  through  the 
long  unused  corridors  of  his  brain,  and  awakened 
within  him  the  old  struggle  of  remembering. 
He  gazed  on  the  white  hands  outstretched 
toward  him,  into  the  face,  loving  and  implor- 
ing ;  then  from  his  heart  to  his  brain  leaped  the 
answer,  and  thence  to  his  lips. 

"  Mother,"  he  called,  springing  to  meet  her, 
and  fell  crashing  at  her  feet,  senseless. 

In  an  instant  she  was  beside  him,  her  wan 
face  paler  than  before,  a  look  of  numbing  fear 
in  her  sorrow-stricken  eyes. 

All  her  struggle  had  been  vain,  worse  than 
vain,  since  the  shock  of  her  presence  had 
stricken  life  from  her  boy.  Existence  had  held 
so  many  horrible  realities  for  her  that  for  an 
instant  she  accepted  this  last  without  question 
or  effort  to  reverse  it.  Then  putting  forth  her 


The  Sword  of  Justice  65 

little  strength  she  managed  to  roll  his  body 
over  so  that  his  face  was  uppermost.  She  drew 
his  head  against  her  knee  and  began  feverishly 
to  chafe  his  hands  and  head.  Still  his  eyes 
remain  closed,  nor  did  the  blood  come  back  to 
his  brown  cheek  again  to  bid  her  hope.  At 
length  the  spirit  in  her  that  would  not  be 
broken  by  the  blows  of  fate  asserted  itself  and 
demanded  action.  He  was  not  dead ;  he  could 
not  die ;  he  should  not  die  now.  No,  not  even  if 
God  himself  willed  it.  She  did  not  know  in  her 
frenzy  of  fear  and  pain  if  she  but  thought  these 
words,  or  if  she  had  screamed  them  aloud 
to  heaven  in  shameless  defiance.  The  forest 
seemed  to  re-echo  with  them,  the  silence  shouted 
them  to  her  soul.  She  looked  for  water,  for 
something  to  bring  it  in.  There  was  nothing. 
.She  gathered  the  deer  robe  in  a  heap  and 
thrust  it  under  his  head  where  her  knee  had 
been,  then,  forgetful  of  her  own  exhaustion,  she 
sped  away  into  the  forest,  where  but  a  little 
while  before  she  had  crossed  a  spring  from 
which  a  fresh,  cool  stream  was  running.  She 
dipped  the  corner  of  her  cloak  into  the  water 
until  the  heavy  cloth  had  absorbed  a  weight  of 
moisture,  and  returned  as  quickly  as  possible 
to  the  side  of  the  unconscious  youth. 

After  some  moments  of  contact  with  the  cold 

cloth  on  his  head,  Pierre  unclosed  his  eyes  and 

gazed  into  his  mother's  tender  ones  above  him. 

At  first  he  looked  at  her  with  the  half  dazed, 

S 


66  The  Sword  of  Justice 

wholly  sweet  look  of  an  awakened  child,  then 
an  unspeakable  terror  began  to  dawn  in  his 
face,  to  widen  and  deepen  until  it  convulsed  his 
features.  "  Mother,  mother,"  he  moaned,  hiding 
his  face  against  her  skirts  as  he  had  done  in 
frightened  babyhood. 

She  bent  over  him,  gathered  him  in  her  arms, 
fondled  him,  calling  him  by  every  endearing 
term  which  her  mother  tongue  could  utter.  She 
soothed  him  as  if,  indeed,  he  were  a  little  child 
again,  while  terror  and  fear  gripped  her  own 
heart.  She  could  not  comprehend  the  battle 
raging  in  his  long  unused  brain.  More  than 
two  years  had  dulled  the  memory  of  those  awful 
scenes  which  were  then  and  there  existent  to 
Pierre's  newly  awakened  recollection. 

Great  waves  of  thought  surged  over  him, 
threatening  to  submerge  and  drown  his  regained 
consciousness.  The  warm  smell  of  blood 
sickened  in  his  nostrils,  ghastly  sights  spread 
themselves  before  him.  Fierce  shouts  of  the 
slaughterers,  mingled  with  the  groans  of  dying 
victims,  the  cries  for  mercy  from  those  under 
the  knife.  They  were  hiding  behind  the  gate ; 
they  were  fleeing  leaden-footed  toward  the 
forest;  Eugenie's  childish  cry  over  her  lacer- 
ated feet  echoed  freshly  in  his  ears.  The  throb- 
bing pain  swelled  and  grew  larger  with  the  rush 
of  thought,  and  he  felt  himself  drawing  near  the 
borders  of  nothingness  again.  He  struggled 
back,  he  put  forth  all  his  feeble  strength.  He 


The  Sword  of  Justice  67 

seemed  to  be  battling  against  an  impalpable 
something  which  ever  gave  way  before  him  and 
drew  him  on.  He  would  not  be  cast  over  again 
into  that  blackness  from  which  he  had  but  now 
emerged. 

At  length  his  struggle  triumphed,  the  dark 
brink  which  he  feared  began  to  recede  like 
the  tide  on  the  shore,  leaving  him  weak  but 
conquering. 

Notwithstanding  the  nearness  of  the  events 
which  poured  through  his  mind  in  such  wild 
confusion,  he  had  a  sense  of  the  lapse  of  time, 
as  a  sleeper  has  who  suddenly  wakes  from 
sound  and  dreamless  slumber  in  the  dead  hours 
of  the  night.  There  have  been  no  dreams  by 
which  to  mark  its  passage,  yet  he  feels  its  flight, 
though  he  could  give  but  a  poor  guess  as  to 
its  duration.  So  it  was  with  Pierre. 

He  struggled  from  his  mother's  detaining 
arms  and  faced  her.  "  How  long?"  he  ques- 
tioned briefly;  as  he  did  so  his  eyes  strayed 
over  his  brown  limbs  and  moccasined  feet,  his 
body  unclad  save  for  the  belt  and  aziam. 

"  More  than  two  years,"  answered  the  woman, 
dimly  realizing  something  of  what  was  taking 
place  in  the  mind  of  her  son. 

Now  at  last  he  knew  why  he  could  but 
remember  the  three  Falling  Leaf  moons  notched 
on  the  bark  of  the  pine-tree.  He  was  Chepane, 
"a  boy;"  he  dwelt  in  the  lodge  of  Satouriona 
his  father  ;  he  hunted  the  forest ;  he  set  his  traps  ; 


68  The  Sword  of  Justice 

he  swam,  and  dived,  and  fished  with  his 
brother  Athore ;  he  had  come  here  to  this  spot 
to  keep  watch  for  the  coming  of  "  Puyafik- 
tcha."  Now,  now  he  knew,  and  his  memory 
gave  one  final  grasp  and  caught  the  thread 
after  which  it  had  groped  so  often  and  so  fruit- 
lessly ;  now  he  knew  why  the  bending  backs  of 
the  squaws  in  the  sun-smitten  fields  ever  stirred 
in  him  a  sense  of  familiarity.  He  had  seen  the 
peasant  women  bend  thus  to  their  heavy  tasks 
under  the  suns  of  far-away  France.  "  I  know, 
I  know !  "  he  cried  in  triumph,  and  letting  his 
head  fall  again  on  his  mother's  knee  he  cried 
and  sobbed  forth  his  relief,  as  one  who,  having 
been  lost  and  astray  in  dark  places,  weeps  for 
joy  and  thankfulness  at  again  seeing  the  habita- 
tion of  man. 


The  Sword  of  Justice  69 


CHAPTER  IV 

THE  dawn  had  glowed  itself  into  noon  before 
Pierre  or  his  mother  made  any  attempt  to  turn 
their  steps  toward  the  Indian  village.  Now 
that  the  strain  had  passed,  and  fears  for  her 
son's  life  and  reason  had  given  place  to  relief 
and  joy  at  his  sane  presence,  the  hardships  of 
the  past  two  years,  and  the  more  immediate 
privations  and  fatigues  of  the  past  few  days  of 
wandering  began  to  tell  on  the  woman's  frail 
strength.  She  who  sped  through  the  forest  this 
morning  in  search  of  water,  with  a  foot  almost 
as  fleet  as  a  girl's,  could  now  scarcely  bear  her- 
self upright,  so  great  was  the  weakness  which 
had  fallen  suddenly  upon  her.  The  order  of 
nature  was  reversed,  and  it  now  became  Pierre's 
turn  to  minister. 

His  stomach  was  making  loud  demands  for 
the  food  which  he  had  denied  it  for  forty-eight 
hours.  After  some  little  calmness  had  fallen 
upon  him,  and  he  felt  himself  gaining  a  firmer 
hold  on  the  quickly  shifting  memories  that  still 
thronged  over  him,  he  was  not  long  in  hearing 
this  demand  nor  in  making  preparation  to 
answer  it.  He  crushed  some  of  the  parched 


70  The  Sword  of  Justice 

corn  between  two  stones  and  moistened  it  with 
water  for  his  mother,  hoping  that  she  might 
eat  and  be  strengthened  against  their  journey. 
She  could  swallow  but  little  of  it,  strive  as  she 
might;  indeed  her  condition  was  such  that 
food  of  any  sort  would  have  been  distasteful. 
Pierre,  however,  crunched  the  crisp  kernels  like 
a  hungry  squirrel,  and  had  the  comfort  after  a 
time  of  feeling  the  sharp  tooth  of  the  gnaw- 
ing fox  withdrawn  from  his  entrails.  He  ate 
greedily,  and  finished  his  Spartan  repast  with 
a  satisfying  draught  of  spring  water,  after 
which  he  returned  to  where  his  fire  burned 
and  his  mother  waited,  and  made  his  simple 
preparations  for  starting  toward  the  lodges  of 
his  adopted  people. 

With  his  deer  robe  slung  on  his  shoulder, 
his  firm  young  arm  about  his  mother's  slight 
figure,  they  took  their  faltering  way  north- 
ward. Despite  his  supporting  arm,  which  bore 
as  much  of  her  weight  as  possible,  they  had 
not  gone  twenty  paces  before  the  woman's  will 
broke  under  the  burden  of  her  helpless  body. 
She  slipped  from  his  supporting  grasp,  and 
settled  in  a  hopeless  heap  on  the  soft  bed  of 
brown  pine  needles  which  carpeted  the  earth. 
"  It  is  useless,  my  son,  my  limbs  refuse  to  do 
my  bidding." 

Pierre  sat  down  beside  her,  grief,  perplexity, 
and  a  new  sense  of  responsibility  making  his 
face  very  grave  and  tender. 


The  Sword  of  Justice  71 

After  a  time,  in  which  he  saw  that  she  did  not 
gain  fresh  strength  to  go  forward,  he  deemed 
it  best  to  turn  back  to  the  camp-fire.  If  they 
must  stay  in  the  forest  possibly  a  few  days, 
they  were  better  off  there,  for  he  could  kill 
game  and  cook  it  and  so  keep  them  from 
starvation.  If,  however,  the  fire  was  lost  to 
them,  nothing  remained  for  subsistence  but 
roots.  On  these  he  might  sustain  himself, 
though  they  would  serve  but  poorly  to  keep 
life  in  his  mother's  more  delicate  habitation. 

"  Let  us  get  back  to  our  fire,  mother,"  he 
said,  rising  from  the  ground  at  last,  a  ring  of 
authority  in  his  young  voice.  "You  need  not 
waste  your  poor  strength,  for  I  can  bear  you  in 
my  arms ;  "  and  heeding  not  the  protest  which 
she  was  already  uttering,  Pierre  bent  his  stal- 
wart shoulders  and  gathered  her  from  the  earth. 
He  was  strong;  but  a  woman  is  not  a  feather 
weight,  and  his  long  fast  had  weakened  him. 
The  muscles  on  his  bare  back  stood  out  like 
knotted  withes,  and  his  breath  was  coming  in 
quick  gasps  when  he  reached  the  spot  where 
for  two  days  he  had  waited  and  watched. 

His  next  care  was  to  make  his  charge  as 
comfortable  as  possible.  He  flung  his  deer- 
skin on  the  ground  and  rolled  her  cloak  for 
a  pillow ;  having  placed  her  on  these,  he  took 
his  knife  and  went  a  little  distance  to  the  "  hum- 
mock," where  he  cut  a  few  light  saplings.  With 
these,  and  some  palmetto  leaves  from  the  scrub 


72  The  Sword  of  Justice 

which  abounded,  he  shortly  contrived  a  bower 
over  her  which  he  thatched  with  the  palmetto 
leaves,  forming  a  slight  shelter  against  the  sun 
by  day  and  the  heavy  dew  of  the  night.  Then 
bidding  her  have  no  fear,  he  penetrated  yet 
farther  in  to  the  forest,  where  stood  a  clump  of 
cedars,  bearded  with  the  drooping,  gray  Spanish 
moss  which  wrapped  them  as  in  a  funeral  pall. 
When  he  had  gathered  a  large  armful  of  this 
he  retraced  his  steps  to  where  the  woman  lay 
with  closed  eyes,  past  fear  of  solitude  or  con- 
cern of  any  earthly  matter  save  rest  for  her 
spent  body. 

With  the  soft  moss  he  made  for  her  a  bed 
under  her  hut  of  boughs,  and  gently  placed 
her  on  it.  She  opened  her  eyes  to  give  him 
a  weary,  grateful  smile,  but  beyond  this  re- 
mained as  passive  as  an  infant. 

He  built  the  fire  anew  and  again  turned  to 
the  forest;  this  time  he  went  as  a  hunter, 
bow  in  hand.  In  that  wild  land  where  game 
abounded  he  had  not  long  to  seek.  He  re- 
turned to  his  camp-fire  before  the  sun  was 
much  lower,  bearing  three  birds  and  a  squirrel. 
His  arrow  had  torn  the  birds  badly,  but  they 
were  good  for  food,  and  his  young  stomach  was 
crying  out  for  something  stronger  than  parched 
corn. 

He  found  his  mother  still  lying  with  closed 
eyes  in  a  state  half  sleep,  half  unconsciousness. 
Gazing  on  her  worn  face  with  its  aureole  of 


The  Sword  of  Justice  73 

silver  hair,  he  noted  for  the  first  time  the  ivory 
pallor,  the  gaunt  hollows  in  the  cheek,  and 
there  came  to  him  the  thought  that  she  might 
not  recover  strength  sufficient  for  her  journey 
to  the  village  of  Satouriona;  that  death  might 
be  even  now  pressing  near  to  claim  her  from 
him  in  this  instant  of  his  recovery  of  himself 
and  of  her.  A  cold  fear  settled  on  him  at 
the  thought.  He  would  not  believe  it,  God 
could  not  be  so  cruel,  to  add  this  bitter  drop 
to  all  that  had  befallen  him.  So  resolutely 
indeed  did  he  turn  his  thoughts  from  this  pos- 
sibility that  in  the  end  he  succeeded  in  banish- 
ing his  fears  to  the  back  of  his  mind.  I  doubt 
if  he  had  been  so  successful  in  this  had  not 
another  dread  begun  to  take  shape  and  grow 
until  it  drove  away  the  first,  usurping  its 
place, — the  fear  of  pursuit  from  the  Spanish 
Fort.  When  they  missed  Madame  Debr6,  would 
they  not  send  out  a  searching-party  for  her? 
and  toward  what  point  would  they  turn  their 
steps  if  not  to  the  lodge  of  Satouriona,  where 
they  knew  that  he,  Pierre,  was,  though  accord- 
ing to  his  mother's  account  they  did  not  know 
him  to  be  her  son?  What  defence  could  he 
make,  alone,  naked,  and  armed  only  with  the 
weapons  of  a  savage,  against  a  party  of  Span- 
iards, locked  up  in  steel  corselet  and  morion, 
armed  with  pikes  and  arquebuses?  He  judged 
himself  to  be  not  more  than  eight  miles  distant 
from  the  Indian  village,  but  to  go  and  return 


74  The  Sword  of  Justice 

at  the  swiftest  pace  that  he  could  make  must 
necessitate  leaving  his  mother  for  many  hours 
alone,  defenceless  alike  against  man  or  beast. 
This,  then,  did  not  seem  a  possible  solution  of 
his  difficulty.  These  thoughts  and  many  more 
crowded  his  brain  as  he  sat  on  the  ground 
busily  stripping  the  birds  of  their  feathers, 
the  squirrel  of  its  skin,  in  preparation  for  the 
evening  meal. 

Before  the  sun  withdrew  all  its  light  these 
were  sending  out  a  warm  savory  odor  on  the 
evening  air  as  they  broiled  before  the  coals, 
mounted  on  sharpened  twigs  which  Pierre  had 
deftly  prepared.  This  primitive  style  of  getting 
his  food  had  grown  very  familiar  to  him  in  the 
past  two  years,  during  which  time  he  had  roamed 
the  forest  and  fished  the  streams  as  his  idle 
fancy  dictated.  He  knew  the  haunts  of  fish  and 
birds,  the  best  method  to  catch  or  trap  all  things 
that  crawled  the  earth,  flew  in  the  air,  or  fre- 
quented the  water.  The  forest  had  for  him  the 
familiarity  which  a  room  in  a  house  wears  to  a 
civilized  person.  To  sleep  out  under  the  canopy 
of  the  star-dotted  heavens  seemed  as  safe  and 
homelike  to  him  as  a  comfortable  bed  does  to 
you. 

When  the  birds  before  the  fire  had  turned  a 
golden  brown  and  begun  freely  to  drop  their 
delicious  juices  on  the  coals,  Pierre  bore  one  to 
his  mother's  side,  and  she,  arousing  herself 
weakly,  attempted  to  swallow  a  few  mouthfuls. 


The  Sword  of  Justice  75 

It  was  weary  work  and  went  slowly,  seeing 
which  the  boy  resorted  to  coaxing.  Tearing  off 
a  juicy  brown  leg,  he  bade  her  eat  just  that,  and 
when  she  had  feebly  complied,  thinking  it  the 
last  effort  she  need  make,  he  was  ready  with 
another  bit  and  a  coaxing  word  to  help  its  dis- 
appearance. At  length  half  a  bird  was  con- 
sumed, and  nature  and  grace  alike  rebelled. 
She  put  a  protesting  hand  against  his,  which 
already  held  another  morsel  to  her  lips,  and 
pushed  it  from  her.  "  I  cannot,  dear,  I  cannot." 

Pierre  desisted  then,  and  having  brought  her 
in  a  leaf  cup  a  draught  of  cold  water,  which  she 
drank  thirstily,  he  turned  himself  to  his  own 
supper  and  made  short  work  of  squirrel  and  birds. 

When  the  darkness  fell  he  renewed  his  fire, 
and  having  covered  his  mother  with  her  cloak, 
he  wrapped  himself  in  his  deerskin  and  lay 
down  beside  her,  to  sleep,  if  possible. 

The  fears  which  the  daylight  and  his  many 
tasks  had  kept  at  bay  now  swarmed  over  him, 
possessing  him  utterly.  The  forest  noises  mag- 
nified themselves  almost  beyond  endurance. 
The  soft  foot  of  some  wild  creature  creeping 
from  its  hole  became  the  advancing  step  of  his 
Spanish  foes,  and  every  crack  of  twig  or  branch 
kept  him  wakeful  and  alert.  And  if  perchance 
these  fears  had  momentary  relief,  then  Death 
stalked  grimly  to  his  camp-fire  and  stood  wait- 
ing to  carry  away  his  precious  charge.  Indeed, 
sometimes  so  soft  was  her  breathing,  so  stirless 


76  The  Sword  of  Justice 

her  body,  he  thought  the  destroyer  had  already 
borne  her  from  him.  At  such  times  he  would 
raise  himself  from  his  wrappings  and  put  a 
tentative  finger  on  her  hand,  to  find  it  each  time 
reassuringly  warm;  then  he  would  go  back  to 
his  old  position,  satisfied  for  a  time. 

The  moon  came  up  at  last,  the  waning  shield 
of  the  Big  Winter  moon ;  and  its  bright  light 
brought  comfort,  for  it  lit  the  open  space  about 
him  so  that  he  might  see  his  advancing  enemy 
before  he  was  quite  upon  him.  But  the  moon 
brought  forth  the  owls  as  well,  and  their  melan- 
choly hooting  sounded  in  his  ears,  in  warning, 
in  derision,  in  fiendish  mockery,  until  he  felt 
that  he  could  bear  the  tension  no  longer ;  then 
oblivion  took  him  to  a  merciful  embrace,  and 
sleep  stood  guard  against  the  army  of  fears  that 
encompassed  him.  The  moon  waned,  the  owls 
gave  over  their  melancholy  prophecy  of  evil, 
and  by  and  by  the  dawn  broke,  its  grayness 
veiling  all  the  earth  in  a  soft  haze. 

When  this  had  lifted  and  the  sunlight  streamed 
over  the  world,  once  more  the  sleeping  youth 
stirred,  wakened,  and  leaped  up  conscious- 
stricken  at  his  lapse  from  vigil. 

Finding  no  cause  for  disquiet,  and  his  mother's 
soft  eyes  looking  at  him  full  of  love,  he  heaved 
a  sigh  of  thanksgiving,  and  having  bent  to  press 
his  lips  to  hers  and  indulge  in  a  moment  of 
loving  talk,  he  set  about  the  homely  tasks  that 
awaited  him. 


The  Sword  of  Justice  77 

So  another  day  began,  which  passed  much 
as  the  preceding,  a  day  in  which  Pierre  roamed 
the  forest  for  his  food,  returned  to  his  camp-fire 
to  prepare  it,  sat  guard  over  his  mother,  and 
fought  his  unuttered  fears.  She  spoke  but  little 
in  all  this  time,  being  too  weak  for  useless  ex- 
penditure of  strength ;  but  in  her  eyes  there 
was  slowly  gathering  a  look  heavy  with  meaning. 
She  realized  that  soon  she  must  speak,  and  at 
great  length,  and  was  husbanding  her  poor 
strength  for  the  effort.  A  few  questions  had 
drawn  from  Pierre  the  little  details  of  his  life 
among  the  Indians.  Beyond  the  fact  of  his 
father's  death  in  the  massacre  of  Ribaut  and  his 
men  on  Anastasia  Island,  she  had  told  him  as 
yet  nothing  of  what  had  befallen  her  since  their 
parting. 

As  the  day  wore  on  even  the  ignorance  and 
hopefulness  of  youth  refused  any  longer  to  be- 
friend Pierre.  He  knew  that  Death  stood  by 
the  camp-fire,  was  even  then  reaching  forward, 
and  with  cold  finger  outstretched  was  drawing 
mysterious  deep  lines  on  the  face  of  his  victim, 
—  lines  which  were  his  written  prediction  of  the 
decay  so  soon  to  wipe  out  all  semblance  of 
humanity  and  make  her  once  beautiful  body  a 
thing  from  which  to  recoil. 

Pierre  watched  her  furtively  when  he  thought 
himself  unobserved,  wondering  if  any  knowledge 
of  the  nearness  of  her  end  had  come  to  her,  or 
if  the  dread  enemy  would  fall  upon  her  in  such 


78  The  Sword  of  Justice 

sudden  and  unexpected  guise  as  to  be  yet  more 
fearful  in  his  onslaught. 

So  while  Death  drew  lines  of  decay  on  the 
woman's  face,  Life,  with  his  hard,  sharp  graver, 
was  busy  at  the  boy's  heart,  scoring  it  deeply, 
each  marking  faintly  reproducing  itself  on  his 
face,  which  hourly  seemed  to  take  on  a  look  of 
manhood  and  gravity.  Held  back  as  he  had 
been  by  his  loss  of  memory  from  the  natural 
heritage  of  growth,  he  was  now  suddenly  thrust 
into  a  forcing  process  which  was  straining  every 
fibre  of  his  nature. 

Darkness  came  again,  and  again  Pierre 
wrapped  himself  in  his  deerskin  and  lay  down 
beside  his  mother,  but  nearer  this  night,  for  the 
enemy  pressed  upon  him,  and  if  he  would  lie 
between  her  and  the  grim  waiting  presence  he 
must  lie  close. 

He  no  longer  started  with  fright  at  the  natural 
sounds  of  the  woods;  his  fear  of  the  enemy 
that  walks  by  noonday  was  swallowed  up  in 
terror  for  the  shadow  that  comes  by  night.  His 
ears  are  strained  in  fear  lest  that  breath  so  soft 
and  soundless  should  have  ceased.  The  sense 
of  relief  which  poured  over  him  when  the  quiet 
figure  stirred  or  changed  position  became,  as  the 
night  wore  on  and  his  fears  increased,  almost 
physical  pain. 

The  moon  rose ;  again  the  owls  took  up  their 
dreary  antiphone,  which  beat  on  the  boy's  ears, 
making  him  fear  to  lose  the  sound  of  the  soft 


The  Sword  of  Justice  79 

breathing  on  which  his  own  life  seemed  now  to 
depend. 

The  moonlight,  which  had  crept  slowly  toward 
them  across  the  open  space,  now  touched  his 
feet.  He  watched  it  steal  up  and  up,  slowly  up 
his  body,  until  he  lay  submerged  in  its  still, 
white  radiance. 

"  Pierre." 

At  the  first  sound  of  the  whispered  word  he 
sprang  up,  his  bare  body  in  the  ghostly  moon- 
light giving  him  a  look  of  some  ancient  god  of 
the  forest  but  newly  awakened  from  sylvan 
slumber. 

The  woman  stretched  her  feeble  hand  toward 
him  and  clasped  his  warm  one.  "  I  am  dying, 
my  son ;  you  must  know  it.  I  have  known  it 
these  two  days,  and  have  waited  to  gain  strength 
for  those  things  which  must  be  said  to  you 
before  I  go.  I  must  leave  you  —  my  boy  —  my 
boy  —  " 

He  had  no  words  for  her,  his  emotion  had 
caught  him  by  the  throat,  and  even  breathing 
was  hard.  He  only  pressed  the  hand  which  he 
held  hard  within  his  own,  laying  his  other  brown 
palm  over  the  white  one  between. 

After  a  little  she  began  to  speak,  slowly, 
pausing  often,  her  labored  breathing  causing 
her  words  to  come  painfully.  Her  hand  still 
lingered  in  that  of  her  boy,  as  if  his  young 
strength  were  a  fountain  from  which  her  failing 
life  drew  a  few  drops. 


8o  The  Sword  of  Justice 

"  You  know,  my  son,  that  I  married  against  my 
father's  will,  and  that  my  husband  was  the  tutor 
of  my  brother  Pierre,  whose  name  you  bear. 
You  know  also  that  my  father,  feeling  that  I 
had  disgraced  the  name  of  Rengard,  cast  me 
out,  and  that  I  never  saw  his  face  again;  but 
you  do  not  know  that  at  the  time  of  my  escape 
from  home  and  my  marriage,  I  had  been  be- 
trothed against  my  will  to  Philippe  de  Lavalatte. 
I  tried  to  act  honorably  toward  Philippe ;  I  told 
him  of  my  love  for  Henri,  and  appealed  to  him 
to  withdraw  from  the  marriage,  since  I  was 
powerless.  He  refused,  and  I  fled  to  your  father 
for  refuge. 

"  We  lived  in  Paris  after  our  marriage,  and  were 
happy  until  Philippe  came ;  then  your  father  lost 
his  position.  He  found  another  in  time ;  it  too 
went,  and  for  no  reason  that  we  could  discover. 
All  this  time  Lavalatte,  who  is  my  kinsman, 
distantly  related  through  my  mother,  sought 
our  home,  professing  ardent  friendship  for  us, 
seeming  to  harbor  no  ill-feeling  for  the  past.  I 
did  not  believe  him.  Some  instinct  of  the  weak 
bade  me  beware,  but  Henri  gave  no  heed  to  me 
in  this,  and  refused  to  see  Philippe's  hand  in  our 
constant  misfortunes.  We  sunk  lower  and  lower, 
until  starvation  faced  us.  We  were  Huguenots, 
and  the  fierce  fires  of  persecution  were  beginning 
to  make  life  even  harder  yet,  when  our  good 
Coligny  undertook  to  establish  a  colony  in  a  new 
land,  where  religion  of  whatsoever  sort  might 


The  Sword  of  Justice  8 1 

have  freedom  of  speech  and  practice.  Your 
father  was  amongst  the  first  to  offer  for  this  ex- 
pedition, and,  having  family  claims  on  Coligny, 
he  was  able  to  arrange  for  our  going.  I  feared 
the  voyage,  the  new  country,  everything,  but  I 
feared  Lavalatte  more.  I  cannot  express  to  you 
the  horror  of  this  man's  presence,  the  waiting 
look  in  his  eyes  whenever  they  rested  upon  me ; 
but  every  such  glance  was  a  threat,  a  menace 
that  I  could  not  forget.  Even  your  father  had 
grown  to  suspect  him  then,  I  think.  Imagine 
the  consternation  that  seized  us  both  when  we 
discovered  the  night  before  our  sailing  from 
Havre  that  he  also  had  joined  the  expedition. 
Nor  were  our  fears  lessened  when  we  learned 
that,  in  order  to  gain  weight  and  influence  with 
the  party,  Lavalatte  had  forsworn  his  religion 
and  become  a  Huguenot.  Happily  he  voy- 
aged on  another  ship  of  the  fleet,  and  so  for 
a  little  time  his  shadow  was  removed  from  my 
path. 

"  Now  I  am  come  to  the  things  which  you 
remember  well,  my  son:  of  our  life  in  this 
hard  land,  of  our  privations  and  sickness,  of 
our  despair,  facing  starvation  as  we  were  when 
Loudonniere  determined  to  return  with  the 
remnant  of  his  colony  to  France.  Then  came 
Jean  Ribaut  with  food  and  re-enforcements  on 
the  very  day  before  we  were  to  set  sail." 

The  woman  was  well-nigh  exhausted,  and  it 
was  plain  to  be  seen  that  she  was  making  heavy 
6 


82  The  Sword  of  Justice 

draughts  on  the  little  stock  of  life  which  was 
left  to  her. 

"  Rest  now,  my  mother.  Memory  takes  up 
the  tale  from  there,  and  nothing  remains  to  be 
told.  Do  not  spend  your  little  strength  on  the 
past,  but  rather  love  and  bless  me  with  your  coun- 
sel for  the  future,"  pleaded  the  boy,  gently  fond- 
ling the  hand  which  he  held  between  his  own, 
and  realizing  that  even  the  warmth  of  his  touch 
did  not  now  suffice  to  drive  away  the  cold  chill 
which  was  creeping  from  the  fingers  down. 

"  Nay,  Pierre,  I  must  speak  on,  this  is  but  the 
beginning  of  what  must  be  said.  The  worst  yet 
remains.  You  do  not  know  that  Philippe  de 
Lavalatte,  who  once  before  had  lightly  changed 
his  faith  to  meet  his  convenience,  when  trapped 
with  the  rest  of  that  shipwrecked  multitude  by 
the  wily  promise  of  Menendez,  shifted  his  belief 
again  to  save  his  life.  Your  father  died  like  a 
man  with  Philippe  de  Lavalatte's  taunt  ringing 
in  his  ears;  he  died  believing  us  both  dead. 
God  of  Hosts  !  if  it  had  but  been  so,"  exclaimed 
the  woman  in  an  impassioned  voice.  After  a 
pause  she  resumed  her  more  quiet  tone,  and 
took  up  her  tale  again,  though  it  was  evident  she 
made  a  great  effort  to  keep  herself  calm. 

"  I  was  taken  to  San  Augustine  with  some  of 
the  women  and  children  who  had  been  spared 
in  the  slaughter.  When  Lavalatte  came  into 
the  camp  with  the  Spanish  soldiers  and  the  few 
French  who  had  been  saved,  no  sooner  did  his 


The  Sword  of  Justice  83 

eyes  rest  on  me  than  he  stretched  forth  his 
hands,  and  taking  me  into  a  forcible  embrace 
claimed  me  as  his  wife.  I  repulsed  him.  I 
denied  it,  I  called  God  and  the  few  French  from 
the  Fort  to  witness  the  untruth  of  it.  He  pre- 
tended grief  and  chagrin,  and  drew  aside  with 
one  of  the  priests.  He  said  that  I  refused  to 
acknowledge  him  or  do  my  duty  as  his  wife 
because  I  believed  in  the  new  faith,  and  hated 
him  because  he  had  been  led  to  see  his  errors. 
They  believed  him,  or  they  had  no  care  for 
what  befell  a  French  heretic.  I  was  forced  to 
go  with  him  back  to  Fort  Caroline,  back  even 
to  the  very  quarters  where  I  had  dwelt  with 
your  father." 

The  woman  snatched  her  hand  from  her  son's 
grasp  to  cover  from  her  sight  the  look  of  widen- 
ing horror  which  was  dawning  in  his  eyes,  as 
the  awful  import  of  her  words  made  their  way 
slowly  to  his  brain.  With  a  groan  which  seemed 
torn  from  the  depths  of  his  being,  his  head  fell 
forward  against  his  knees;  he  sat  motionless, 
stricken.  The  man  in  him,  awake  and  suffering, 
was  writhing  against  this  thing  which  had  fallen 
on  his  name  and  his  honor.  A  great  and  tre- 
mendous pity  for  his  mother  was  later  to  possess 
him,  but  as  yet  he  only  felt  this  stain  as  it 
touched  his  life  and  his  dead  father's  honor. 
Indeed  I  doubt,  so  inherent  is  the  selfishness  of 
the  male  animal,  if  he  or  any  man  could  ever 
come  to  conceive  all  that  this  awful  confession 


84  The  Sword  of  Justice 

meant  to  the  white-souled  woman  who  made 
it. 

Neither  stirred  or  spoke  while  many  slow 
minutes  dragged  by.  At  length  Pierre  raised 
himself,  and  in  a  voice  whose  very  tone  seemed 
changed  said,  — 

"  Hear  me  swear,  my  mother :  as  God  gives 
me  strength,  I  will  wash  out  this  foul  dishonor 
to  you  in  the  blood  of  the  man  who  put  it  upon 
you." 

She  took  his  hand  between  her  own  and 
looked  long  into  his  eyes.  "  I,  your  mother,  bid 
you  slay  this  man,  but  I  would  not  have  you 
strike  in  the  spirit  of  revenge,  for  the  Lord  hath 
said,  '  Vengeance  is  mine,  I  will  repay.'  Kill 
him  as  you  would  a  poisonous  viper  that  struck 
at  your  heel,  for  while  he  lives  there  is  no  safety 
for  you.  As  for  me,  not  every  drop  of  blood 
in  his  foul  body  would  suffice  to  wipe  out  a 
hundredth  part  of  the  stain  which  lies  on  me. 
Oh,  my  son  !  "  she  cried  in  agony,  "  I  so/netimes 
fear  that  even  the  hereafter  cannot  cleanse  me 
from  this  stain,  not  unless  memory  dies  and  I 
cease  to  be." 

Something  of  what  she  suffered  began  to 
dimly  take  shape  in  Pierre's  mind  now.  He 
caught  her  to  his  heart  and  held  her  strained 
in  a  long,  close  embrace,  until  a  paroxysm  of 
coughing  seized  and  wracked  her.  She  pushed 
herself  from  him,  gasping  for  air.  Across  her 
lips,  trickling  from  her  mouth,  a  thin  red  stream 


The  Sword  of  Justice  85 

had  begun  to  flow.  Helpless  and  dismayed  he 
watched  the  red  flood  rise.  He  wiped  the  fast- 
flowing  blood  away  with  the  corner  of  her 
cloak,  but  a  fresh  stain  replaced  it  instantly. 
She  was  gasping,  fighting,  battling  for  her 
breath.  He  could  hear  the  terrible  rattle  of  her 
fast-filling  lungs,  then  with  a  final  gurgle  and 
choke,  a  last  contortion  of  the  body,  her  head 
fell. 

Pierre  laid  her  gently  down,  wiping  away  the 
blood  which  still  flowed  from  her  mouth.  He 
gazed  vacantly  at  the  slight  stream  which  had 
trickled  across  his  bare  leg  and  was  slowly  dry- 
ing, he  watched  the  earth  drink  up  the  little  red 
pool  that  had  fallen  on  it,  leaving  only  a  brown 
stain. 

Still  he  sat  wiping  away  the  blood  from  the 
corner  of  the  white  mouth  until  the  drops  came 
slower  and  finally  ceased. 

No  need  to  sit  so  close  now,  oh  child  of 
earth ;  your  loving  guard  has  proved  of  no  avail, 
the  destroyer  has  come  between  you  and  what 
you  loved,  and  your  house  is  left  unto  you 
desolate. 


86  The  Sword  of  Justice 


CHAPTER  V 

THE  sun  was  an  hour  high  before  Pierre  aroused 
himself  from  the  lethargy  which  had  fallen  over 
him.  Through  all  this  time  he  sat  staring  at 
the  rill  of  dried  blood  that  stained  his  bare  leg, 
so  motionless  that  he  seemed  carved  in  stone. 
At  length  he  came  back  to  the  demands  of  life, 
and  aroused  himself  to  do  the  last  sad  duties  for 
his  dead. 

It  was  slow  work  even  in  this  loose  earth  to 
break  the  ground  with  the  rude  instruments  at 
his  disposal,  and  slower  yet  to  hollow  out  even 
a  shallow  grave  when  his  hands  were  the  only 
means  of  lifting  the  loosened  dirt.  The  sun 
was  descending  the  western  sky  before  the 
narrow  bed  was  ready  for  its  occupant:  over- 
head the  buzzards,  mysteriously  scenting  death, 
had  begun  to  sail  in  majestic,  yet  ever  narrowing 
circles. 

Seeing  them,  Pierre  shuddered,  and  hurried 
fiercely  on  with  his  task. 

With  the  fixed  idea  that  seems  ever  to  possess 
the  living,  that  the  dead  must  sleep  both  soft 
and  warm,  he  lined  the  bottom  of  the  grave 


The  Sword  of  Justice  87 

with  moss,  and,  wrapping  the  quiet  form  about 
in  the  long  gray  cloak,  he  lifted  and  laid  it 
gently  into  its  last  earthly  resting-place. 

He  paused  sometime  before  making  any 
effort  to  fill  in  the  grave.  It  seemed  to  him 
that  he  ought  to  do  something,  say  some  word 
of  prayer,  by  some  act  make  this  burial  different 
from  the  hasty  putting  away  of  a  body  which 
was  purely  animal.  He  strove  to  gather  his 
dulled,  scattered  wits,  but  they  would  not  come 
at  his  bidding;  his  thoughts  being  rather 
inclined  to  dwell  on  matters  of  the  most  trivial 
import.  Still  he  knelt  by  the  side  of  the  open 
grave  and  struggled  for  words  to  express  the 
feeling  that  surged  through  his  being.  At 
length,  running  beneath  his  consciousness  at 
first  there  began  to  rise  and  swell  a  strain  which 
moved  with  the  grand  swing  of  a  triumphal 
march.  It  grew  and  grew  until  his  conscious 
thought  grasped,  held,  and  fitted  to  it  the  words 
which  had  first  been  sung  over  his  cradle,  and 
later  had  woven  themselves  through  all  his 
religious  experience. 

He  got  to  his  feet  then,  and,  standing  with 
head  erect  and  eyes  which  looked  back  on 
scenes  past,  he  raised  his  young  voice  on  the 
still,  evening  air :  — 

"  A  safe  stronghold  our  God  is  still, 
A  trusty  shield  and  weapon ; 
He  '11  help  us  clear  from  all  the  ill 
That  hath  us  now  o'ertaken." 


88  The  Sword  of  Jiistice 

The  startled  birds  fluttered  in  fright  at  the 
unwonted  sound  in  the  quiet  forest,  and  the  shy 
creeping  things  sought  cover  and  waited. 

Pierre  sung  to  the  end,  little  knowing  that 
these  very  words,  this  very  strain,  echoed  from 
the  lips  of  his  father  in  the  last  moment  of  life. 

When  the  hymn  was  ended  he  kneeled  again 
and  began  to  shovel  in  the  earth  with  his  bare 
hands.  As  the  first  clod  fell  dully  on  the  silent 
form,  he  gave  a  little  cry  as  of  pain,  and  reaching 
into  the  grave,  gathered  it  carefully  away,  and 
sat  irresolute  and  suffering.  It  was  not  until 
one  of  the  slow-sailing,  dark-winged  birds  made 
a  swooping  downward  circle  as  if  to  alight  that 
he  went  again  at  his  task,  which  he  did  now 
in  hot  haste,  lest  the  body  so  sacred  to  him 
suffer  desecration  from  the  sharp  beaks  of  the 
carrion  birds. 

It  was  over;  nothing  remained  to  be  done, 
for  he  had  even  fetched  stones  and  covered  the 
loose  earth  to  protect  it  from  digging  paws. 
Though  all  was  finished,  he  could  not  nerve  him- 
self to  turn  away  and  leave  her.  He  thought 
she  must  feel  lonely  and  deserted ;  he  could  not 
rid  himself  of  the  idea  that  she  still  knew  what 
passed  about  her ;  so  when  the  watching  moon 
came  to  her  late  rising,  it  beheld  him  again 
stretched  on  the  earth,  face  down,  as  near  as 
might  be  to  the  little  mound  of  his  own 
making. 

In  the  grayness  of  the  early  dawn  he  rose 


The  Sword  of  Justice  89 

from  his  vigil,  and  turned  his  face  to  the  north. 
The  sun  was  two  hours  high  when  he  entered 
the  lodge-opening  of  Satouriona. 

A  light  of  welcome,  of  relief,  leaped  into  the 
old  chiefs  eyes  when  they  rested  on  the  gaunt 
face  and  stalwart  figure  of  Chepane,  who  strode 
into  the  lodge,  head  erect.  The  new  lines  of 
gravity  which  sorrow  and  shame  had  wrought 
on  his  face  so  changed  him,  that  he  looked  full 
five  years  older  than  a  few  days  since,  when  he 
stood,  lighted  fagot  in  hand,  ready  to  set  out 
on  his  journey. 

Without  a  word  he  dropped  his  deerskin 
from  his  shoulder,  and  hung  his  bow  and  quiver 
in  its  accustomed  place  behind  his  seat. 

"  You  have  talked  long  with  your  heart,  my 
son,"  said  the  old  chief,  gazing  upon  him,  trying 
to  understand  the  subtle  changes  in  his  face. 
Pierre  answered,  coming  first  to  stand  straight 
and  erect  before  the  seated  chief. 

"  I  have  done  even  as  my  father  bade  me ;  I 
have  seen  '  Puyafiktcha."  I,  even  I  also,  will  be 
a  warrior,  as  all  my  father's  people  are,"  he  said, 
his  voice  ringing  with  a  new,  deep  manliness. 


90  The  Sword  of  Justice 


CHAPTER  VI 

IT  was  evening;  within  the  lodge  of  Satouriona 
the  fire  burned  a  leaping  blaze.  It  flashed  on 
the  dark  faces  of  those  seated  around,  and  threw 
magnified  and  distorted  shadows  against  the 
thatch  wall.  On  the  far  side  of  the  light  the 
squaws  sat,  silent  and  stolid,  the  children  scuff- 
ling and  tumbling  amongst  them.  Except  for 
the  brightly  curious  eyes  of  the  women,  turned 
now  to  this,  now  to  that  one,  fastened  eagerly 
on  the  lips  of  whoever  spoke,  shifting  quickly 
if  another  caught  up  the  fallen  speech,  they 
might  have  been  so  many  grotesque  idols 
carved  in  stone  and  dressed  in  tanned  deer's 
hide. 

Even  the  men  were  clad  in  skins  now,  for  a 
sudden  change  in  the  weather  had  sent  them 
shivering  into  their  winter  tribal  dress.  The 
long  leather  stocking  or  leggin  was  fringed 
down  the  side  and  fastened  to  the  belt  which 
held  the  aziam,  the  body  was  covered  with  a 
loose  shirt  of  the  same  material,  fringed  on  the 
sleeves  and  ornamented  across  the  breast  with 
rude  designs  in  crude  heavy-colored  dyes.  The 
women  wore  the  leggin  extending  only  to  the 


The  Sword  of  Justice  91 

knee,  where  it  was  met  by  a  scant  skirt  of  deer's 
hide.  A  loose,  shapeless  sacque  of  the  same 
covered  the  upper  part  of  the  body,  which  in 
summer  remained  perfectly  nude. 

The  fragrant  incense  of  many  burning  pipes, 
mingled  with  the  thin  pennons  of  bluish  smoke, 
which,  failing  to  rise  to  the  smoke-hole,  floated 
about  the  lodge,  throwing  a  softening  haze  over 
the  rude  picture,  and  by  contrast  giving  greater 
value  to  those  figures  in  the  foreground  and 
under  the  more  direct  glow  of  the  leaping 
flames.  Outside  the  wind  rustled  the  pal- 
metto thatch,  and  from  time  to  time  a  swirl 
of  rain  made  a  ghostly  patter  among  the  well- 
dried,  crackling  leaves.  Within,  all  eyes  were 
fixed  on  the  chief,  for  he  was  just  beginning 
the  recital  of  one  of  those  Indian  legends, 
familiar  by  repetition  to  all  save  the  youngest 
members  of  the  gathering,  enjoyed  none  the 
less  on  this  account  by  their  elders. 

Satouriona  stared  fixedly  at  the  fire,  speaking 
deliberately,  pausing  often  for  long  satisfying 
puffs  of  the  pipe,  which  hovered  at  all  times 
not  far  from  his  lips.  He  had  the  evident 
enjoyment  of  his  tale,  which  is  the  first  requi- 
site of  a  good  story-teller. 

"  I  speak  to  you,  my  sons,  of  a  time  when 
the  earth  was  young,  so  young  that  the  evil 
heart  of  man  had  not  revealed  itself,  and  the 
god  of  the  great  waters,  the  god  of  the  air, 
the  god  of  the  trees,  the  god  of  the  stones,  and 


92  The  Sword  of  Justice 

all  the  gods  which  people  the  earth  and  dwell 
below  it,  feared  not,  as  now  they  do,  to  show 
themselves,  but  walked  in  the  light  of  day  and 
stretched  forth  their  hands  to  help  the  labor 
of  man  or  bless  him  in  the  hunt.  Yet  while 
they  bore  no  enmity  toward  man,  their  anger 
sometimes  burned  against  each  other,  and  they 
even  did  deeds  of  evil,  so  that  great  sorrow 
sometimes  fell  on  the  dwellers  upon  earth. 
Hiawatha  was  a  god  who  thought  good  thoughts 
toward  man ;  he  sent  plenty  in  the  fields,  and 
showers  and  sun  to  make  the  earth  conceive 
and  bear  fruit.  This  god  fell  under  the  anger 
of  the  great  serpent  who  ruled  over  all  the 
waters  near  and  far.  Now  in  the  land  where 
the  serpent  lived,  when  the  Big  Winter  moon 
shone,  the  water  grew  hard,  even  as  a  rock, 
so  that  a  man  might  walk  upon  it.  In  conse- 
quence of  his  anger  toward  Hiawatha  the  ser- 
pent god  blew  a  warm  breath  on  the  rock-water 
during  the  cold  weather,  and  because  of  this 
warm  breath  from  his  great  fiery  throat  the 
rock-water  rotted  under  the  fleeing  feet  of 
Chibiabos,  the  grandson  of  Hiawatha,  and  he 
fell  quickly  into  the  depths  and  they  closed 
over  him. 

"  Then  was  the  anger  of  Hiawatha  kindled 
against  the  serpent  god,  and  it  burned  hotter 
and  hotter  as  the  cold  weather  passed  and  the 
Master  of  Breath  turned  his  blazing  eyes  on  the 
earth  and  warmed  it  until  it  turned  green,  and 


The  Sword  of  Justice  93 

the  ground  animals  forsook  their  holes,  the 
beaver  began  to  build,  and  the  Indian  came 
from  his  winter  lodge  and  took  the  forest  trail 
in  search  of  game.  Now  when  the  eyes  of  the 
Master  of  Breath  were  full  opened  and  the 
earth  was  warmest,  Hiawatha  sought  out  a 
kingfisher  who  dwelt  on  the  shore  of  the  great 
water  which  was  the  country  of  the  serpent 
god.  After  holding  with  the  kingfisher  a  big 
talk,  he  learned  of  him  where  the  wicked  ser- 
pent god  and  all  his  warriors  came  when  the 
sun  was  warmest,  to  lie  in  a  shallow  pool  and 
bask  in  the  heat.  Near  this  spot  did  Hiawa- 
tha take  up  his  waiting,  and  that  his  enemy 
might  not  know  him,  he  became  even  as  a  tree 
which  the  wind  god  had  broken  in  his  hands 
and  left  standing  without  a  branch  to  cover 
its  head. 

"  Soon  from  out  of  the  deep  the  serpent  god 
came  with  his  warriors  and  his  squaws,  and 
they  lashed  up  the  water  with  their  tails  and 
sported  in  delight,  for  they  were  soon  to  be 
gathered  into  the  warm  arms  of  the  Master 
of  Breath  and  have  life  renewed  within  them. 

"  Hiawatha  waited  impatiently  until  the  ser- 
pent god  and  all  his  people  had  coiled  them- 
selves in  the  sand  and  lay  deep  in  sleep,  then 
he  bent  his  bow  for  a  mighty  shot,  and  sped 
a  swift  arrow  into  his  enemy's  eye.  The  ser- 
pent god  fled  toward  the  deep,  screaming 
loudly,  and  so  great  was  the  sound  of  his 


94  The  Sword  of  Justice 

cry  that  even  the  warriors  of  the  earth  shook 
with  fear  and  waited  for  the  coming  of  the 
awful  doom  of  which  it  was  the  omen.  As 
the  serpent  god  fled,  in  revenge  for  his  pain 
he  lashed  the  water  with  his  tail  and  caused 
it  to  flow  back  until  it  began  to  cover  the 
earth.  It  came  at  first  to  the  top  of  the 
moccasin,  then  it  crept  swiftly  to  the  knee,  to 
the  middle,  and  still  it  flowed,  until  it  mounted 
to  the  shoulders,  and  was  as  high  as  the  head 
of  the  tallest  brave.  It  followed  swiftly  on 
the  fleeing  feet  of  Hiawatha,  who  sought  a 
mountain  and  climbed  its  side.  But  swiftly 
as  he  climbed,  the  water  followed  just  behind 
and  kissed  his  heel,  until  at  length  all  the 
world  was  water,  and  only  the  scalp-lock  of 
the  mountain  stood  above,  and  from  it,  like 
an  eagle's  plume,  grew  a  tall  tree.  This  tree 
did  Hiawatha  climb  as  quickly  as  might  be, 
but  as  swift  as  his  heels  rose  in  the  air  the 
devouring  flood  came  after.  He  then  com- 
manded the  tree  to  stretch  itself,  and  it  heard 
his  voice  and  obeyed,  and  shot  into  the  air; 
but  the  water  reached  out  as  quickly  to  his 
heel  and  touched  it  coldly.  Again  he  com- 
manded the  tree  to  stretch  itself  up,  and  again 
its  ears  were  open  and  it  obeyed ;  but  the 
flood  came  again  to  his  heel,  and  when  he 
called  a  third  time  to  the  tree,  its  ears  were 
so  deep  down  below  the  water  it  heard  not, 
and  so  remained  as  it  was,  nor  grew  any  taller. 


The  Sword  of  Justice  95 

"  The  water  came  higher  and  higher  until  it 
reached  even  to  Hiawatha's  neck,  and  only  his 
head  was  above  the  flood.  About  him,  swim- 
ming near,  were  water-fowls,  beside  the  beaver, 
the  otter,  the  mink,  and  the  muskrat.  These 
were  his  friends  and  brothers,  and  they  heeded 
his  commands  when  he  spoke  words  to  them. 
He  first  bade  the  loon  dive  and  bring  up  to 
him  a  little  bit  of  earth ;  and  the  loon  obeyed, 
but  soon  floated  up  to  the  surface,  dead,  for  the 
water  was  too  deep  for  it.  He  then  sent  in 
turn  the  beaver,  the  otter,  and  the  mink,  but 
they  all  came  back  to  him  without  having  found 
bottom.  At  last  he  sent  the  muskrat,  '  For 
your  ancestors,'  said  he,  '  were  ever  known  for 
grasping  the  muddy  bottoms  of  pools  in  their 
claws.'  And  so  the  muskrat  dove  down,  down, 
down,  until  at  last  he  touched  the  top  of  a  high 
mountain  and  grasped  a  bit  of  earth  in  his 
claws.  When  he  came  up  to  the  surface  again 
Hiawatha  seized  it  from  him  gladly,  for  the 
water  flowed  even  with  his  mouth  now.  He 
raised  his  hand  which  held  the  bit  of  earth  no 
bigger  than  a  grain  of  corn,  and  he  held  it  up 
to  where  the  eye  of  the  Master  of  Breath  could 
rest  on  it,  and  at  once,  when  it  became  warm, 
it  began  to  grow,  and  grow,  until  it  covered  his 
hand ;  and  spread,  and  spread,  until  it  was  as 
large  as  a  canoe  floating  on  the  water.  Still  it 
grew  until  the  beaver,  the  otter,  the  mink,  and  the 
muskrat  climbed  upon  it  and  rested  themselves 


g6  The  Sword  of  Justice 

from  their  swimming.  And  now  it  became 
even  as  a  little  island,  and  Hiawatha  grasped  its 
side,  and  letting  go  his  hold  on  the  tree  he 
climbed  upon  it,  and  there  rested  until  it  grew 
into  a  great  island  having  forests  and  game 
in  abundance." 

"  Tell  us,  my  father,  from  whence  came  the 
warriors  of  our  tribe  if  all  were  drowned  when 
the  waters  went  over  the  earth,"  Olotoraca 
asked,  well  knowing  the  answer,  but  desirous 
of  drawing  the  chief  on  to  further  story-telling. 

Seeming  to  give  no  heed  to  the  speaker,  the 
chief  drew  several  long  whiffs  from  his  pipe  and 
stared  into  the  leaping  flames.  Then  removing 
his  pipe,  he  continued :  — 

"  When  the  great  island  had  grown  into  a 
great  land,  it  came  to  have,  after  many  days,  a 
hole  in  its  centre  which  was  wide  at  the  mouth, 
but  of  its  depth  no  one  can  say.  From  out  of 
this  grew  a  vine,  whose  roots  were  deep  down 
in  the  blackness,  but  whose  branches  stretched 
tip  to  the  light.  On  this  vine  the  first  warrior  and 
his  squaw  climbed  up  to  the  earth.  They  were 
the  beginning  of  all  people  of  the  red  race." 

Pierre,  who  had  listened  eagerly  to  this  recital, 
hearing  it  as  he  did  for  the  first  time,  stirred 
in  his  seat  with  that  impatience  which  one  feels 
on  hearing  a  wrong  version  of  a  tale  of  which 
one  knows  the  right.  Before  the  return  of  his 
memory  he  had  been  too  thoroughly  Indian  to 
vouchsafe  any  contradiction  of  his  elders,  even 


The  Sword  of  Justice  97 

if  he  knew  a  truth  which  they  did  not  Now, 
however,  the  European  feeling  of  superiority 
asserted  itself,  and  scarcely  pausing  to  think 
how  utterly  he  violated  the  unwritten  laws  of  these 
savage  people,  he  raised  his  voice  in  objection. 

"Thy  tale,  my  father,  is  in  some  things 
wrong.  There  was  truly  a  great  water  which 
covered  the  earth,  I  know.  I  have  read  of  it  in 
a  book  where  it  is  set  down  in  the  sign  writing 
of  my  people.  But  before  the  great  water 
came,  one  man  more  wise  than  all  others  built 
a  monstrous  canoe  into  which  he  took  two  of 
all  things  living.  Lastly  went  in  the  man  and 
his  sons,  and  the  squaws  of  his  sons,  and  these 
floated  many  days  in  the  canoe  on  the  breast 
of  the  flood,  until  the  water  subsided  and  dry 
land  came  out  of  it  again." 

Before  he  had  finished  speaking,  Pierre  could 
not  but  be  aware  of  the  look  of  amazement, 
amounting  almost  to  consternation,  on  the  face 
of  every  one  in  the  group.  It  set  him  stammer- 
ing awkwardly  over  his  last  sentences,  but  he 
held  on  bravely  to  the  end,  while  the  slow 
blood  mounted  to  his  face  and  began  to  paint 
it  crimson  with  mortification. 

Satouriona  laid  aside  his  pipe,  and  after  one 
guttural  grunt  of  disgust  fastened  his  com- 
manding eyes  on  the  boy's  face  and  held  them 
there  without  speaking,  until  a  long  minute  had 
elapsed,  and  Pierre  felt  that  the  scrutiny  was 
becoming  unbearable. 

7 


98  The  Sword  of  Justice 

"  Thy  name,  Chepane,  must  even  now  know 
sudden  change,"  the  chief  announced  at  length, 
with  a  fine  note  of  sarcasm  in  his  voice  which 
withered  the  boy's  last  bit  of  bravado.  "  Doubt- 
less my  white  son  would  have  us  call  him 
'  Poohleki/  our  father,  and  listen  to  the  words 
of  wisdom  which  he  has  gathered  in  his  long 
days  upon  earth.  Or  is  it  only  '  Tvcci,' 1  the 
jay  bird,  who  chatters  in  the  forest,  and  not 
'our  father,'  who  teaches  us?  Pierre's  head 
drooped  under  these  stinging  words  until  his 
attitude  would  have  disarmed  a  severer  per- 
son than  the  chief.  The  warrior  continued  his 
speech  notwithstanding,  but  his  tone  was  gentler 
and  the  sarcastic  note  had  died  out. 

"  Since  the  Master  of  Breath  hath  laid  his 
finger  a  second  time  on  the  eye  of  thy  mind, 
and  opened  it  once  more  to  the  seeing  of  those 
things  which  have  gone  before,  thou  hast  borne 
thyself  as  better  becomes  a  warrior  of  many 
scalps  than  one  who  has  never  yet  had  reason 
to  strike  the  war-post.  Lower  thy  pride,  my 
son,  lest  ill  befall,"  counselled  Satouriona ;  then 
resuming  his  pipe  he  lit  it  once  more  at  the  fire 
and  smoked  on  unheeding,  while  Athore,  whose 
seat  was  next  to  Pierre's,  by  dumb  show  evinced 
toward  his  neighbor  a  few  signs  of  unholy  joy 
at  what  he  deemed  a  just  rebuke.  For  since 
his  return  from  seeking  '  Puyafiktcha,'  Pierre 
had  seemed  changed  and  older.  He  often  cor- 
1  The  v  is  pronounced  like  a  short  u. 


The  Sword  of  Justice  99 

rected  Athore  about  things  outside  their  little 
life  in  a  tone  of  no  uncertain  authority.  He 
told  tales,  too,  of  great  lodges  built  of  stone 
which  contained  more  things  in  them  than 
Athore  believed  the  whole  world  held. 

Satouriona  too  had  noticed  a  difference  in 
the  boy,  in  respect  to  the  years  that  he  seemed 
suddenly  to  have  gained,  and  to  a  certain  dom- 
inant something  in  his  bearing,  which,  while 
not  lacking  in  respect  toward  his  elders,  seemed 
yet  to  assert  an  unconscious  superiority. 

He  noticed  also  that  the  young  man  was  rest- 
less, often  moody,  and  he  argued  rightly  that 
the  war  spirit  was  astir  within  him.  On  the 
day  after  his  return  from  his  vigil,  Pierre 
had  mounted  in  his  hair  lock  the  split  eagle's 
feather,  which  is  the  sign  that  the  wearer  has 
received  scars  from  the  hand  of  his  enemy. 
Once  mounted  on  the  head  of  a  warrior  it 
becomes  the  sign  and  seal  set  to  his  sworn 
determination  to  avenge  the  blow.  When  the 
chief  questioned  him  of  his  right  to  wear  this, 
he  maintained  it  stoutly,  saying  that  the  blow 
had  fallen  in  the  day  to  which  his  eyes  were  but 
now  reopened. 

That  night,  when  slumber  visited  all  within 
the  lodge,  it  found  Pierre  wakeful  and  restless. 
Certain  half-formed  resolutions  which  had 
lurked  in  his  mind  these  many  days  were 
crystallizing  rapidly,  and  action  was  becoming 
a  necessity. 


ioo  The  Sword  of  Justice 


CHAPTER  VII 

IT  was  an  afternoon  in  January.  The  sun  was 
warm,  and  the  inshore  breeze  cooled  with- 
out chilling  you.  The  sky  was  a  deep  blue 
unflecked  by  clouds,  and  the  air  so  balmy  it 
sent  through  all  one's  being  that  pleasant  lassi- 
tude which  does  not  carry  with  it  weakness,  but 
only  a  relaxation  of  the  nervous  tension  of  the 
body.  Across  the  narrow  parade-ground  of  San 
Mateo  a  young  girl  was  passing.  A  certain 
daintiness  both  as  to  the  arrangement  of  her 
dress  and  the  delicate  contours  of  her  face  and 
figure  threw  her  out  of  harmony  with  her  rude 
surroundings.  The  warm  tones  of  her  delicate 
skin  had  withstood  the  sun's  rays,  refusing  to  take 
on  the  leathery  brownness  which  the  climate  of 
Florida  is  so  likely  to  induce.  Her  hair,  of  a 
shining  blue  blackness,  was  gathered  back  from, 
and  arched  itself  about,  a  low  broad  forehead 
whose  rounded  outline  completed  the  perfect 
oval  of  her  face.  The  mouth,  wide  and  merry, 
was  quick  to  mirror  every  breath  of  feeling  that 
ruffled  the  surface  of  her  girlish  thought ;  the 
eyes,  the  chief  beauty  of  her  face,  were  large 
and  gray,  surrounded  by  a  fringe  of  black  lashes 


The  Sword  of  Justice  101 

and  overarched  by  delicately  pencilled  black 
brows. 

Her  dress,  though  of  coarse  blue  worsted  stuff, 
yet  had  a  trimness  of  cut  about  the  short  skirt 
which  gave  it  an  air  of  daintiness.  Above  the 
snugly  fitting  bodice  her  chemisette  gleamed 
spotlessly  white,  and  her  stiff  collar  stood  up- 
right behind  her  head  in  the  snowy  pride  of 
fine  laundry  work.  A  pair  of  well-shaped  feet 
found  stiff  covering  in  the  wooden  sabots  whose 
cheerful  click,  clack  kept  one  aware  of  her 
pretty  presence  whenever  she  was  in  the  house. 

Now,  however,  the  little  wooden  shoes  were 
singing  a  duller  tune,  as  the  girl,  bareheaded 
and  smiling,  glad  in  the  gladness  of  youth  and 
health,  crossed  the  parade  and  made  her  way 
toward  the  sentry  who  walked  his  narrow  beat 
before  the  Fort  gate. 

He  paused  when  she  took  her  stand  fairly  in 
his  path,  and  grounding  the  butt  of  his  halberd 
he  allowed  the  admiration  which  every  soldier 
in  the  fort  accorded  the  one  pretty  unattached 
woman  within  its  walls,  to  show  in  his  eyes. 

She  made  a  little  gesture  of  command  toward 
the  gate,  and  waited  as  one  who  is  well  used  to 
prompt  obedience.  Despite  her  youth,  she  was 
already  too  much  a  woman  not  to  have  realized 
the  weapons  which  youth  and  beauty  had  thrust 
into  her  hands;  yet  she  was  also  too  much 
child  to  dream  of  the  dangers  with  which  these 
same  charms  encompassed  her.  Deep  down  in 


IO2  The  Sword  of  Justice 

her  heart  she  held  for  these  Spaniards  a  feeling 
compounded  of  fear,  hatred,  and  contempt,  for 
she  had  not  forgotten  that  day  of  blood-drenched 
horror,  the  memory  of  which  sometimes  came 
stalking  to  her  pillow  in  nightmare  terrors. 
But  she  was  young,  merry,  and  soft  of  heart. 
She  could  not  always  be  frowning  and  bearing 
ill-feeling.  Where  all  smiled  upon  her,  and  her 
own  smile  was  such  a  ready  thing,  it  is  little 
wonder  that  she  reflected  some  of  the  kindliness, 
despite  the  feeling  hidden  away  in  her  heart. 
She  had  passed  through  one  awful  baptism  of 
blood;  all  unknowing  she  stood  now  not  far 
from  another,  yet  like  a  young  bird  in  the  forest 
she  fluttered  and  sung,  swung  herself  happily 
amongst  the  green  boughs  —  and  forgot. 
Healthy  youth  has  a  short  memory  for  injuries 
which  have  not  fallen  directly  upon  itself. 

"What  would  the  Senorita  have  of  me," 
questioned  the  soldier,  smiling  down  on  her, 
wondering  the  while  to  whom  this  dainty  mor- 
sel of  womanhood  was  to  fall,  and  sighing  to 
think  that  whoever  the  lucky  fellow  might  be, 
he  surely  would  not  be  of  the  common  soldiery 
like  himself. 

"  I  desire  you  to  open  the  gate,  and  quickly, 
stupid  one,"  answered  the  girl  in  rather  halting 
Spanish. 

The  soldier  shook  his  head,  smiling  more 
broadly  to  see  the  petulant  look  deepen  on  her 
childish  face  at  his  refusal. 


The  Sword  of  Justice  103 

"Nay,  nay,  pretty  one,  I  have  my  orders. 
No  birds  allowed  out  of  the  cage  these  days, 
lest  a  wicked  waiting  cat  devour  them." 

"  Have  done  with  such  fooling,  Manuel,  and 
unbar  the  gate  for  me,  else  I  shall  be  moved  to 
report  your  churlish  denial  to  Captain  Perez," 
commanded  Eugenie  Brissot,  emphasizing  her 
words  by  a  fierce  little  stamp  of  the  wooden 
sabot. 

"Now  the  saints  be  my  witness,  it  is  not 
Manuel  who  denies  you,"  returned  the  soldier, 
speaking  more  gravely  now,  lest  this  tiny  fire- 
brand burn  him  up  with  her  angry  eyes.  "  T  is 
the  captain  himself  who  hath  issued  this  order 
to  me." 

"  That  I  be  not  allowed  to  pass  the  gate?  "  she 
demanded  with  flashing  eyes. 

"That  none  of  the  women  within  the  Fort 
be  allowed  to  pass  the  gate,"  amended  Man- 
uel. "  Since  the  disappearance  of  the  French- 
woman— "  he  was  beginning,  when  with  a 
derisive  laugh  the  girl  broke  in  upon  his  speech. 

"  Donkey,  think  you  that  a  lion  or  a  bear  has 
devoured  poor  Madame,  and  now  lies  in  wait  for 
others  ? "  My  faith !  it  is  no  great  matter  for 
one  with  a  little  wit  in  his  head  to  say  where 
Madame  de  Lavalatte  is." 

"But  where,  where?"  ejaculated  the  man, 
curiosity  getting  the  better  of  him  at  once. 

"Nay,  not  so  fast,  open  the  gate  first,  and 
then  maybe  I'll  open  your  stupid  eyes — after- 


1 04  The  Sword  of  Justice 

ward,"  bargained  Eugenie,  looking  at  him  with 
her  head  on  one  side  like  a  saucy  bird. 

"That  I  cannot,"  answered  the  man  firmly, 
then  seeing  her  wrath  about  to  burst  over  him 
in  good  earnest,  he  hastily  diverted  the  torrent 
into  another  channel.  "  There  passes  Captain 
Perez  himself.  Ask  him,  and  if  he  bids  me,  I  '11 
open  for  you,"  and  he  pointed  to  where  a 
young  Spaniard  clad  in  trunk-hose  and  doublet 
of  deep  brown  slashed  with  crimson,  his  legs 
encased  in  long  leggins  of  soft  tanned  leather, 
crossed  the  parade-ground  and  came  toward 
them.  A  drooping  black  beaver  shadowed  the 
handsome  but  dissipated  face,  which  showed 
little  if  any  change  since  last  we  saw  it. 

Eug6nie  darted  toward  him  like  a  swallow  and 
planted  herself  defiantly  in  his  path. 

"What  is  this  that  the  stupid  donkey,  Manuel, 
tells  me,  Senor  Captain?  Is  it  then  true  that 
I  may  no  longer  go  out  into  the  open  ?  Am  I 
then  a  prisoner?"  she  demanded,  for  a  second 
time  bringing  down  the  little  sabot  as  if  she 
expected  it  to  strike  terror  to  his  soul. 

The  Spaniard  bowed  gravely,  "  Nay,  Sefiorita, 
it  is  I  who  am  prisoner,  and  you  who  are  jailer," 
he  protested,  and  in  his  eyes  burned  a  look  which 
gave  his  words  a  deeper  color  of  truth  than  the 
exaggerated  Spanish  compliment  usually  holds. 

"But  why,  why,  why?"  exclaimed  the  petu- 
lant child,  ignoring  the  suave  speech  and  re- 
fusing to  be  placated  by  the  look. 


The  Sword  of  Justice  105 

"  Since  the  wife  of  Senor  de  Lavalatte  dis- 
appeared —  "  he  was  beginning,  even  as  Manuel 
had  done,  when  again,  as  in  the  case  of  the 
sentry,  Eugenie  broke  into  high,  mocking 
laughter. 

"  So,  you  are  for  thinking  that  the  wild 
animals  have  devoured  Madame?  Poof!"  she 
blew  a  little  derisive  sound  from  between  her 
closed  lips.  "  I  know  another  thing  than  that. 
I  know  where  Madame  is.  She  has  escaped  and 
gone  to  seek  her  son.  Oh,  but  yes,  yes ;  "  seeing 
the  look  of  surprise  and  denial  in  the  dark  face 
above  her,  she  plunged  on  childishly,  reckless 
of  consequence,"  —  I  know,  I  have  heard  it 
mouthed  about  that  Pere  Augustine  hath  dis- 
covered a  French  youth  in  the  Indian  village, 
and  that  he  sought  to  buy  him,  but  the  Indians 
refused  to  part  with  him  though  he  tempted 
them  with  a  great  store  of  things  such  as  they 
love.  And  I  have  heard  beside  that  this  same 
youth  bears  a  wondrous  likeness  to  Madame, 
which  is  passing  strange,  since  she  hath  no  son 
or  brother." 

"  But,  but,"  the  man  began  to  stammer,  taken 
aback  by  the  girl's  calm  assumption  of  knowl- 
edge, "  this  that  you  say  cannot  be ;  we 
searched  the  woods  for  many  days,  and  had  the 
woman  been  there,  striving  to  get  to  the  Indian 
village,  we  had  quickly  tracked  her  down.  Be- 
side this,  the  Senor  de  Lavalatte,  he  says  they 
have  no  son ;  "  he  finished  his  argument  with 


io6  The  Sword  of  Justice 

a  triumphant  air  as  if  to  demolish  the  girl's  as- 
surance at  a  blow. 

"Ah!  ha!  ha!"  laughed  Eugenie  again, 
giving  her  chin  a  wicked  little  hitch,  which 
expressed  both  a  satisfaction  in  her  own  supe- 
rior wisdom  and  a  serious  doubt  of  the  veracity 
of  the  person  in  question.  "  Since  Sieur  de 
Lavalatte  conveniently  abjured  his  faith,  casting 
it  aside  as  if  it  were  a  worn  cloak,  and  slipping 
on  another  more  suited  to  the  change  of  wind, 
he  hath  uttered  more  things  than  his  '  Aves ' 
and  '  Paternosters,'  and  I  have  my  warrant  for 
saying  it,  Madame  did  have  a  son,  although  he 
was  no  son  of  Sieur  de  Lavalatte's.  She  has 
gone  to  seek  her  boy,  I  know,  and  I  trust  the 
good  heart  of  God  that  she  has  found  him  ere 
this,"  concluded  the  girl  more  gravely. 

The  Spaniard  stood  for  a  moment  gazing 
at  her  in  speechless  amazement,  but  when  he 
attempted  to  push  the  question  further  he  was 
met  by  stubborn  evasion  on  the  part  of  the  girl, 
who  was  beginning  to  fear  that  she  had  talked 
more  than  she  ought. 

"And  what  assurance  have  I  that  if  I  bid 
Manuel  open  the  gate  that  you  will  not  also 
make  your  escape  and  be  gone  to  return  no 
more,"  questioned  Perez,  resuming  the  matter 
in  hand  and  striving  to  back  up  his  refusal  with 
so  good  an  argument. 

Eugenie  allowed  a  look  of  contemptuous 
wonder  to  ruffle  for  a  moment  the  surface  of 


The  Sword  of  Justice  107 

her  eyes,  and  mirror  itself  on  her  face  like  a 
light  breeze  passing  over  water.  It  curled  her 
lips  in  an  adorable  attempt  to  express  her  meas- 
ureless amusement  at  his  absurd  suggestion. 

"Madame  escaped  to  join  her  son,  and  you 
think  that  I,"  —  she  tapped  her  breast  several 
times  with  her  extended  forefinger,  —  "  that  I, 
Eugenie  Brissot,  would  run  away  and  leave  my 
old  father  here  behind  me.  And  to  what  pur- 
pose, Senor,  would  I  run?  That  I  might 
become  the  squaw  of  some  feathered  chief?  In 
faith !  I  had  even  rather  wed  with  a  Spaniard 
than  that."  She  delivered  this  little  fleer  with 
a  quick  upward  and  downward  sweep  of  her 
gray  eyes,  which  was  like  an  exclamation-point 
under  which  she  set  a  dimple  for  finish.  Then 
her  soft  little  fingers,  beseeching,  sought  the 
sleeve  of  his  dark  doublet.  "  Ah,  do,  Senor 
Captain,  let  me  out ;  I  pine  to  death  to  be  held 
within  close  walls  for  such  a  long  time." 

Possibly  the  sarcastic  suggestion  of  wedding 
with  a  Spaniard,  but  more  probably  the  wheed- 
ling tone  of  the  sweet  voice  and  the  touch  of 
those  five  soft  fingers  on  his  arm,  undid  the 
stern  determination  of  the  young  man. 

"  If  I  let  you  go  will  you  surely  return,  and 
soon?"  he  questioned,  closing  his  brown  palm 
over,  and  detaining  the  white  fingers. 

"Stupid  one,  yes,"  she  cried,  again  putting 
that  swift  bewildering  exclamation-point  at  the 
end  of  her  words. 


io8  The  Sword  of  Justice 

He  held  her  hand  and  walked  beside  her  to 
the  gate.  A  wave  of  the  hand  told  Manuel  that 
his  superior  officer  had  not  been  cast  in  as  firm 
a  mould  as  the  subaltern,  and  the  soldier  turned 
quickly  to  conceal  the  smile  which  overspread 
his  face,  while  he  busied  himself  undoing  the 
lumbering  fastenings  of  the  gate.  As  the  bar 
shot  back,  and  the  heavy  timber  swung  slowly 
open,  the  girl  whisked  through  the  aperture 
and  sped  away  without  a  backward  glance  of 
thanks.  "  Remember  your  word  not  to  tarry 
long,  else  I  will  come  myself  to  search  for  you," 
called  the  young  officer  after  her,  which  admo- 
nition only  enlisted  a  toss  of  the  head  from  the 
little  figure  skimming  rapidly  over  the  ground. 

The  sentry  closed  the  gate  and  barred  it 
again.  "  'T  is  good  to  see  the  flash  of  a  kirtle  in 
this  well-nigh  womanless  land,  even  if  it  be  but 
in  the  wake  of  a  tricksome  French  body,"  said 
the  man,  looking  toward  his  superior,  an  evi- 
dent desire  for  conversation  possessing  him. 

The  officer  frowned  slightly,  and  without 
answer  turned  on  his  heel  and  departed.  Man- 
uel gazed  after  him,  anger  and  contempt  fight- 
ing in  his  look.  "  He  gives  himself  great  airs 
since  he  became  captain,"  he  muttered  angrily 
to  himself. 

As  for  Eugenie,  fluttering  away  like  an 
uncaged  bird  toward  the  path  which  led  over 
the  bluff  to  the  river,  never  had  freedom  seemed 
so  sweet  as  at  this  moment  when  she  had  been 


The  Sword  of  Justice  109 

obliged  to  make  some  small  struggle  for  it. 
She  smiled  to  think  what  a  great  matter  they 
had  made  over  so  small  a  thing,  for  she  was 
surely  putting  her  fought-for  liberty  to  very 
simple  use. 

She  reached  the  top  of  the  steep  bluff  path 
and  picked  her  way  slowly  down  it  until  she 
came  to  the  water's  edge.  Here  she  found  for 
herself  a  seat  on  the  narrow  strip  of  sandy 
beach  which  extended  for  a  short  distance 
under  the  bluff,  and  was  only  available  as  a 
stopping-place  when  the  tide  was  low.  Before 
her  lay  the  broad  and  slowly  moving  surface  of 
the  St.  John's  River,  all  of  its  depths  turned  to 
deepest  blue  from  the  perfect  sky  overarching 
it.  Just  above  and  behind  the  spot  where  the 
girl  sat  the  bluff  rose  from  the  river  in  unbroken 
height  for  about  twenty-five  feet.  Neither  bush 
nor  root  found  abiding  place  on  its  steep  side, 
and  although  at  its  foot  the  narrow  beach  lay 
uncovered  at  low  tide,  still  its  sheer  declivity 
offered  no  chance  even  for  the  most  agile 
climber.  Along  the  top  of  this  extended  the 
palisade  that  formed  the  river  defence  of  the 
Fort,  which  was  triangular  in  shape,  having  a 
bastion  at  each  angle.  The  two  sides  which 
gave  on  the  land  were  guarded  by  a  deep 
ditch  and  a  rampart  built  of  fascines  and 
covered  with  sod.  It  was  a  well-selected  site, 
and  the  original  Fort  had  been  constructed  with 
care  by  its  French  builders,  while  in  the  Span- 


no  The  Sword  of  Justice 

ish  hands  it  had  received  further  strengthening 
and  necessary  repairs,  so  that  it  now  offered  a 
fair  defence  against  even  better-armed  foes  than 
the  naked  savages  who  seemed  its  only  enemies. 
All  this,  however,  was  a  sight  too  familiar  to 
the  young  French  girl  to  hold  for  her  any  inter- 
est. The  broad,  blue  river,  with  its  now  and 
then  tumbling  dolphins  at  their  awkward  frolic, 
the  soft  lip,  lap  of  the  water  against  the  sides  of 
the  canoes  moored  near  by,  —  these  attracted 
her  attention  far  more,  and  she  enjoyed  them 
for  a  time  quiescently,  before  she  drew  her 
knitting  from  her  pocket  and  began  a  busy 
clicking  with  her  bone  needles.  Her  thoughts 
were  not  a  little  troubled  to-day,  for  she  had 
but  lately  had  one  of  her  periodical  exhortations 
from  the  mouth  of  Pere  Augustine.  He  was  a 
kind  old  man,  and  the  girl,  with  the  instinct  of 
her  sex,  felt  that  he  was  more  to  be  trusted  than 
the  others  in  the  Fort.  Doubtless,  too,  it  was 
even  as  he  said,  and  he  only  desired  her  welfare ; 
which  fact  caused  him  to  tell  her  such  distressing 
things.  Pere  Augustine  had  a  dramatic  tongue, 
and  his  pictures  of  the  hell  fire  waiting  to  con- 
sume heretics  were  painted  in  colors  so  vivid 
that  they  were  pretty  certain  to  send  poor 
Eugenie  in  a  paroxysm  of  tears  to  her  father's 
arms  for  comfort.  This  she  always  found,  for 
old  Brissot's  faith  was  not  of  the  uncertain  sort, 
and  though  they  had  taken  from  him  his  Bible, 
his  most  cherished  possession,  they  could  not 


The  Sword  of  Justice  1 1 1 

wipe  out  from  his  mind  the  words  of  hope  and 
peace  which  long  reading  had  stored  there. 
Beside  this  he  was  no  mean  theologian  for  a 
simple  man,  and  with  logic,  unanswerable  to  the 
girl's  mind,  he  confuted  the  words  of  the  worthy 
priest,  and  showed  her  that  if  any  burning  was 
to  be,  it  would  be  for  those  who  followed  the 
Scarlet  Woman  and  were  the  supporters  of 
Antichrist. 

And  yet  she  sometimes  wondered,  was  won- 
dering even  then,  if  by  chance  there  might  not 
be  something  in  the  views  of  Pere  Augustine. 
She  shuddered  at  the  thought,  and  her  busy 
mind  began  to  light  the  fire  for  her  own  burn- 
ing. She  saw  herself  about  to  be  thrust  into 
those  unquenchable  flames,  she  felt  already  the 
burning  thirst  in  her  parched  throat,  and  she 
went  through  all  the  torture  of  the  damned. 
After  a  little  she  so  worked  upon  herself  that 
her  knitting  dropped,  and  she  began  to  cry  softly, 
in  self  pity.  Her  tears  seemed  to  quench  the 
imaginary  fire.  There  came  the  remembrance 
of  her  father's  certain  utterances,  and  little  by 
little  they  found  a  place  in  her  mind,  comforting 
and  convincing  her  anew.  She  was  preparing 
mentally  to  thrust  the  priest  into  the  fire  which 
she  had  made  ready  for  herself,  when  her  tender 
heart  rebelled  at  so  serving  the  kind  old  man, 
and  she  snatched  him  back  hurriedly  from  the 
licking  tongues  of  flame  that  already  reached 
out  for  him. 


H2  The  Sword  of  Justice 

Then  her  mind  wandered  to  Madame.  She 
wondered  if  she  had  found  the  Indian  village 
and  Pierre.  Could  it  indeed  be  Pierre,  alive 
and  well  ?  Many  of  the  girl's  happiest  recollec- 
tions were  entwined  with  a  rosy-faced,  sturdy 
boy,  who  had  fought  for  her  and  dominated  her 
in  true  man-fashion,  since  that  hour  on  the  ship 
when,  but  a  timid  child,  she  had  wept  because 
of  the  encroachments  of  a  young  bully,  and 
Pierre  had  come  to  her  rescue.  Eugenie  had 
thought  much  of  Madame  since  her  going  from 
the  Fort,  for  she  was  the  only  Frenchwoman 
beside  herself  within  its  walls,  and  the  girl 
missed  her  sorely. 

Eugenie's  mother  had  succumbed  to  the  hard- 
ships of  the  voyage  to  New  France,  and  had 
died  on  the  way  out;  since  that  time  Madame 
had  always  held  toward  the  child  a  motherly  care. 

So  while  the  girl  knitted  she  dreamed  of  the 
past  until  the  sun  began  to  descend;  seeing 
which  she  slipped  her  work  into  her  pocket  and 
turned  her  steps  up  the  well-worn,  bluff  path. 
She  was  not  going  into  the  dreary  Fort  yet,  not 
she ;  it  had  been  much  too  serious  a  matter  to 
get  out,  nor  did  she  know  when  she  might 
accomplish  it  again.  She  would  make  the  best 
of  this  free  hour,  and  roam  a  little  way  into  the 
forest  before  she  demanded  entrance  of  Manuel. 
She  must  not  go  far,  though,  nor  must  she  stray 
from  the  beaten  path,  for  it  was  easy  to  lose 
one's  self  in  this  bewildering  pine  forest,  where 


The  Sword  of  Justice  113 

every  tall,  straight  tree  was  like  every  other 
tree,  and  all  grew  so  close  together  that  the  Fort 
was  easily  lost  and  obscured  from  view. 

She  turned  into  the  wood  and  walked  a  little 
way,  until  she  came  upon  a  brook  which  gurgled 
over  its  black  bed,  sometimes  almost  buried 
under  the  lightly  resting  cover  of  pine  needles, 
which  fell  constantly  upon  it.  With  the  perfect 
idleness  of  youth  which  finds  sudden  interest  in 
matters  most  trifling,  she  gathered  a  long  stick 
from  the  ground  and  began  slowly  to  follow  the 
brook  side,  laboriously  scraping  away  the  pine 
needles,  giving  the  fretting  water  an  open  course 
in  which  to  flow. 

All  unconscious  was  she  that  from  the  dense 
foliage  of  a  tree  near  by  a  pair  of  eyes  filled 
with  eager  curiosity  stared  upon  her,  while  a 
lithe  young  body  edged  itself  cautiously  along 
the  bending  branch,  striving  for  a  more  unob- 
structed view. 

Suddenly  the  overweighted  bough  gave  too 
far,  and  without  warning  dropped  its  large, 
strange  fruit  on  the  soft  brown  pine  needles, 
just  over  against  the  spot  where  Eugenie  stood 
rooted  to  the  earth,  paralyzed  by  terror.  Her 
mouth  was  open  to  scream,  her  eyes  were  black 
with  fright  at  the  sudden  apparition  of  an  Indian 
who  dropped  as  from  the  heavens.  Before  she 
could  give  vent  to  the  terror-frozen  cry  which 
stuck  in  her  throat,  the  Indian  bounded  to  his 
feet,  leaped  across  the  brook  which  divided 
8 


H4  The  Sword  of  Justice 

them  and  caught  her  in  his  arms,  at  the  same 
time  covering  her  mouth  to  smother  the  cry 
which  he  momentarily  expected  to  hear  ring 
out  on  the  still  air.  Her  head  was  bent  back  so 
that  his  face  was  above  hers,  and  very  near ;  he 
saw  the  look  of  agonized  fright  in  those  great 
gray  eyes  which  stared  into  his  own  so  pitifully. 
He  felt  the  strong,  irregular  flutter  of  her  labor- 
ing heart  beneath  his  detaining  hold.  His  own 
heart  began  to  stir  also  with  strange,  irregular 
beatings,  while  a  feeling  born  of  the  sweet 
forced  contact  swept  over  him.  Obeying  an 
impulse  whose  strength  compelled  him,  desirous, 
too,  of  shutting  away  from  his  vision  that  look 
of  frightened  misery,  his  face  drew  nearer, 
nearer  to  hers,  until  he  had  closed  first  one  eye, 
and  the  other,  with  a  long,  tender  kiss.  When 
he  raised  his  head  and  gazed  again  into  her 
eyes,  their  look  had  changed.  Something,  per- 
haps the  tenderness  of  the  act,  or  maybe  the 
faint  stirring  of  memory,  told  her  that  she  had 
no  need  to  fear. 

"  Eugenie,"  he  said,  speaking  quickly  and 
in  French,  his  rapt,  low  tone  in  accord  with 
the  feeling  which  still  vibrated  through  all  his 
being.  "Do  you  not  know  me?" 

At  the  sound  of  the  voice  speaking  her  own 
tongue  a  light  of  gladness  leaped  into  the  fright- 
ened eyes.  She  made  a  motion  to  draw  away 
the  detaining  hand  from  her  mouth,  and  Pierre, 
feeling  the  danger  was  passed,  uncovered  her 


The  Sword  of  Justice  115 

lips,  and  even  allowed  her  to  withdraw  herself 
a  little  from  him,  where  she  stood  an  instant, 
staring  and  uncertain.  Then  "  Pierre  !  Pierre  !  " 
she  cried,  holding  out  both  little  hands  to  him. 
Either  he  did  not  see  those  welcoming  hands, 
or  seeing,  disdained  them,  for  he  gathered  her 
again  into  his  arms  and  was  bending  to  put  a 
kiss  on  her  mouth,  when  the  womanhood  in 
her  aroused  itself,  and  she  pushed  his  face 
away  and  slipped  out  of  his  grasp. 

"  Silly  boy,  we  are  too  old  for  such  childish 
kissing,"  she  said,  settling  her  ruffled  little  per- 
son with  a  few  smoothing  touches,  and  looking 
into  his  disappointed  face  with  an  air  of  be- 
witching primness. 

"  You  used  not  to  mind  my  kisses,  Eugenie," 
he  exclaimed  aggrievedly,  to  which  she  deigned 
no  reply. 

Reaction  after  her  fright  had  set  in,  and  she 
was  shaking  so  that  she  had  much  ado  to  stand. 
She  slipped  down  in  a  heap  on  the  pine  needles, 
to  avoid  the  ignominy  of  a  complete  collapse. 

"You  have  come  near  frightening  my  few 
wits  from  me,  Pierre,"  she  said,  giving  him  a 
severe,  reproachful  look.  "  I  believed  you  an 
Indian,  and  my  poor  scalp  almost  fell  from  my 
head  in  terror  at  thought  of  how  you  would 
rend  it  from  me." 

He  dropped  to  his  knees  beside  her.  "  And 
I  deemed  you  a  spirit  of  the  woods,"  he  said, 
laughing  softly,  his  open  admiration  glowing  in 


1 1 6  The  Sword  of  Justice 

the  frank  eyes  that  wandered  over  each  dainty 
feature  of  her  face,  noting  its  changes. 

"  You  used  not  to  be  so  passing  fair,  Eugenie," 
he  said  at  length,  his  tone  expressing  the  deep 
wonder  which  held  him. 

She  gave  her  pretty  head  a  little  hitch,  —  it 
could  hardly  be  called  a  toss,  it  was  something 
far  finer  and  more  subtile  in  its  coquettish  art. 
"  As  to  that,  Pierre,  I  doubt  if  the  change  lies  in 
me;  'tis  but  contrast.  Your  eyes  have  been 
used  this  many  a  day  to  seeing  only  broad- 
faced  squaws ;  "  but  even  as  she  said  this,  a 
look  of  self-consciousness  denied  her  words, 
and  Pierre  ratified  this  denial  with  a  decisive 
shake  of  his  head. 

Then,  with  a  sudden  remembering,  she  broke 
out,  "  Madame,  your  mother,  where  is  she, 
Pierre?  Did  she  reach  you  in  safety?  I  have 
so  feared  for  her." 

The  boy's  face  changed  and  hardened  in  an 
instant,  he  choked  when  he  tried  to  speak,  and 
had  to  pause  and  grasp  his  self-control  firmly. 
"  She  came,"  he  said  at  length,  in  a  dry,  hard 
voice ;  "  fear  no  more  for  her,  she  is  safe.  Oh ! 
Eugenie,  Eugenie,  she  is  dead !  "  He  broke 
down  boyishly,  and  putting  his  head  against 
the  girl's  knee  he  sobbed  out  the  first  tears  of 
relief  that  had  come  to  him  since  that  awful 
experience.  In  a  moment  he  recovered  him- 
self, ashamed  of  his  outbreak.  He  raised  his 
head  quickly,  but  not  before  he  felt  a  soft  touch 


The  Sword  of  Justice  1 1 7 

of  sympathetic  fingers  stray  over  his  hair.  He 
turned  aside,  that  the  welling  tears  in  his  eyes 
might  be  hidden.  "  She  found  me  in  the 
WOod  —  where  I  watched  for  the  coming  of 
'  Puyafiktcha.'  She  was  broken  from  all  — " 
he  could  not  finish  the  phrase.  "  She  died  — 
alone  with  me  —  I  buried  her  there."  Speech 
became  impossible. 

"  Oh,  my  poor  Pierre !  "  exclaimed  the  little 
maid  softly,  and  forgetting  her  coquettish  as- 
sumption of  older  ways  she  slipped  two  soft 
arms  around  his  neck,  and  drew  his  head 
over  until  her  warm  cheek  rested  comfort- 
ingly against  his.  Thus  they  sat  until  on  a 
sudden  Pierre  started  from  the  tenderly  en- 
circling arms  of  the  girl  and  placed  his  head 
quickly  against  the  earth.  His  ear,  trained 
almost  to  the  keenness  of  a  savage's  by  his  two 
years'  association  with  them,  had  detected  the 
sound  of  coming  steps. 

"  Eug6nie,"  he  exclaimed  in  a  quick  whisper, 
"  some  one  comes  from  the  Fort ;  I  must  be  gone." 

"  It  is  doubtless  the  captain  searching  for 
me,  as  he  made  threat  of  doing  if  I  tarried  too 
long.  Go  you,  Pierre,  quickly,  lest  they  capture 
you.  I  will  take  my  way  in  an  opposite  direc- 
tion, for  if  they  once  suspect  that  I  have 
held  speech  with  you  it  may  cost  me  dearly," 
answered  the  girl,  blanching  at  the  possibili- 
ties contained  in  the  thought. 

Pierre  caught  her  hand,  kissed  it,  and  darted 


1 1 8  The  Sword  of  Justice 

away  like  a  rabbit  seeking  cover,  crouching  as 
he  ran  so  that  the  underbrush  afforded  him 
concealment.  Eugenie  made  her  way  less 
quickly  but  in  the  same  crouching  attitude  in 
the  opposite  direction,  hoping  that  she  might 
yet  be  in  time  to  intercept  the  searchers.  Un- 
fortunately they  had  turned  riverward,  and  were 
even  then  following  unconsciously  upon  the 
trail  of  Pierre.  He  could  hear  their  voices 
coming  toward  him,  and  with  terror  he  real- 
ized that  the  underbrush  was  growing  more 
scant  and  less  able  to  conceal  him.  He  was 
yet  a  long  way  from  the  spot  where  his  canoe 
lay  safely  hidden  in  the  thick  water  weeds  in 
a  little  bayou  down  the  river. 

As  he  darted  forward,  he  heard  a  fierce  shout 
go  up  behind  him,  telling  him  that  in  his  flight 
the  scant  shelter  had  betrayed  him  to  the  eyes 
of  his  enemies.  No  use  then  for  further  con- 
cealment, for  they  were  coming  on  pell-mell, 
and  in  speed  lay  his  only  chance.  He  sprung 
to  his  full  height  and  darted  forward  at  a  pace 
which  would  soon  have  left  his  pursuers  hope- 
lessly in  the  rear,  when  the  loud  report  of  an 
arquebuse  rent  the  air.  He  stumbled  and  fell 
headlong  to  the  earth,  conscious  of  a  keen 
pain  in  his  leg.  Undaunted,  he  got  to  his 
feet  again,  but  the  enemy  had  gained  on  him. 
He  tried  to  dash  forward,  but  every  step  was 
an  agony,  and  he  could  feel  the  warm  flood 
of  his  own  blood  pouring  down  under  his  deer- 


The  Sword  of  Justice  119 

skin  leggin.  He  shut  his  teeth  and  tried  not 
to  heed.  He  was  not  far  from  the  river  bank 
now,  if  he  could  reach  it  he  would  leap  over 
and  trust  himself  to  the  water,  for  there  he 
could  use  his  arms. 

They  were  almost  upon  him  when  his  leg 
gave  out  suddenly,  and  a  second  time  he  fell 
heavily  to  the  earth.  He  pulled  himself  to  a 
sitting  posture  and  measured  the  distance  to  the 
river's  edge;  a  quick  glance  back  at  his  pur- 
suers told  him  it  was  no  use,  he  could  not  crawl 
or  scramble  to  the  edge  of  the  water  before 
they  would  be  upon  him.  He  drew  his  knife 
from  his  belt  and,  struggling  up  on'his  uninjured 
knee,  waited.  He  faced  death  with  what  calm- 
ness he  could.  It  was  hard  to  go  in  this  way 
with  his  vow  of  vengeance  unfulfilled,  to  leave 
the  world  now  —  but —  He  saw  the  raised 
halberd  of  the  first  of  the  oncoming  Spaniards, 
he  sent  one  swift  thought,  which  was  like  a  pain, 
toward  the  girl  from  whom  he  had  just  parted. 
This  was  the  end,  but  he  would  not  go  without 
one  blow  at  his  assailants. 

Quickly  he  raised  his  knife  and  hurled  it  with 
deadly  aim.  It  struck  the  arm  which  held  the 
descending  halberd,  and  transfixed  it.  The  sud- 
den, sharp  pain  caused  a  yell  of  wrath  from 
the  Spaniard,  whose  weapon  swerved  from  its 
aim,  and  glancing  from  the  head  fell  heavily  on 
Pierre's  shoulder.  He  raised  it  again,  and  this 
time  it  had  crushed  the  boy's  skull  like  an  egg- 


1 20  The  Sword  of  Justice 

shell.  Before  it  could  fall  the  others  had  come 
panting  up,  and  one  caught  the  stock  of  the 
halberd  firmly  in  his  hand  and  flung  it  aside, 
saying  quickly  in  excited  Spanish  :  "  Hold  your 
villain  hand,  Antonio,  this  is  no  savage.  Mark 
his  look.  By  the  right  hand  of  the  Virgin  !  't  is 
the  Huguenot  scum  which  the  commandant  is  so 
keen  for  capturing.  Fortune  smiles  on  us,  and 
we  will  yet  finger  the  wedge  of  silver  which  hath 
been  offered  for  his  taking.  Here,  bind  him 
quickly,  he  shows  fight.  See  to  it  that  the  flow 
of  blood  is  stopped  lest  he  bleed  himself  to 
death  and  so  snatch  away  our  reward." 

Two  of  the  soldiers  did  Perez's  bidding,  while 
Antonio  interested  himself  in  withdrawing  the 
knife  from  his  arm,  swearing  loudly  the  while 
and  openly  ill  pleased  at  not  being  allowed  to 
make  an  end  of  his  adversary. 

"  So,  so,  Antonio,"  said  Perez,  attracted  by 
his  loud-mouthed  imprecation,  "  the  boy  hath 
managed  to  pink  you  despite  your  long  weapon. 
How  came  he  at  you  ?  " 

"  He  hath  the  devil's  own  cunning  in  the 
throw  of  a  knife,  and  had  I  not  swerved  aside 
he  had  pierced  my  heart  instead  of  my  arm. 
Now,  what  think  you  he  does  here,  spying  near 
the  Fort?  Take  my  word  for  it,  Senor  Captain, 
we  will  be  having  those  devils  of  Satouriona's 
swarming  over  us  before  long." 

"  Never  fear,  Antonio.  San  Mateo  can  hold 
out  against  their  sort  until  the  day  of  doom." 


The  Sword  of  Justice  121 

By  this  time  the  two  soldiers  had  bound 
Pierre's  hands  firmly  behind  him,  and  wrapped 
a  scarf  around  his  leg,  until  the  flow  of  blood 
was  a  little  stanched. 

They  lifted  him  to  his  feet  with  no  gentle 
handling,  and  two  behind  and  two  before  him 
they  set  off  to  the  Fort.  Three  steps  or  more 
and  the  wounded  leg  refused  to  bear  him; 
he  tumbled  forward  against  the  shoulder  of 
the  man  in  front  of  him,  and,  slipping,  came 
heavily  to  the  earth.  The  startled  halberdier, 
thinking  himself  attacked  in  the  rear,  wheeled 
suddenly  and  raised  his  weapon,  but  Perez's 
voice  stayed  him. 

Pierre  was  set  on  his  feet  again,  this  time  with 
the  prick  of  a  pike  at  his  back  to  spur  him  to 
effort.  Even  this  failed,  and  he  stumbled  and 
fell  a  second  time.  "  Drop  your  weapons,  men, 
and  shoulder  him ;  he  either  will  not  or  cannot 
walk,"  commanded  Perez. 

The  men  obeyed  surlily,  two  taking  him  by 
the  shoulders  and  one  grasping  him  by  the  feet, 
having  scant  consideration  for  the  wounded  leg, 
which  was  leaving  a  trail  of  blood  drops  on  the 
ground  to  mark  their  passage. 

When  they  reached  the  Fort  gate  it  was  to 
find  an  excited  crowd  gathered  to  watch  their 
entrance.  The  shots  fired,  the  shouts  of  the 
pursuers,  had  quickly  brought  together  a  knot 
of  soldiers  and  a  fair  sprinkling  of  women, 
among  whom  stood  Eugenie  pale  and  shaking. 


122  The  Sword  of  Justice 

While  making  her  way  back  she  too  had  heard 
the  shot  and  knew  its  import.  Nevertheless  she 
strove  to  command  herself  when  she  demanded 
entrance  of  Manuel,  and  with  as  much  interest  as 
the  occasion  seemed  to  warrant  she  questioned 
him  of  the  noise. 

"Nay,  as  to  that  I  know  no  more  than 
another,"  he  answered,  pulling  her  impatiently 
within  the  gate,  which  he  stood  ready  to  open 
quickly  should  the  returning  soldiers  be  pur- 
sued. "  If  anything  be  amiss,  you  are  the  cause 
thereof,  you  little  French  baggage,"  he  answered 
shortly.  "The  Senor  Captain  must  needs  go 
himself  with  three  men  into  the  woods  to  search 
for  you  because  you  were  so  long  gone.  'T  is 
pity  you  cannot  stay  within  walls  and  cease  giv- 
ing honest  folk  trouble,"  concluded  Manuel, 
whose  temper  was  not  a  little  ruffled  by  sev- 
eral events  of  the  day. 

So  it  was  that  when  the  soldiers  bore  Pierre 
into  the  Fort,  Eug6nie,  conscience-stricken  and 
fearful,  stood  waiting  him.  An  unguarded  ex- 
clamation broke  from  her  as  her  eyes  rested  on 
his  ghastly  face,  the  blue  lips  close  pressed  as 
if  to  hold  back  the  groans  of  pain  which  were 
thronging  for  utterance.  At  the  sound  his  eyes 
unclosed  an  instant  and  met  hers.  Not  a  muscle 
of  his  face  changed,  nor  did  a  look  of  recogni- 
tion ruffle  it,  but  his  eyes  seemed  to  hold  hers 
for  a  brief  second,  and  in  that  look  he  conveyed 
to  her  senses  a  warning  and  a  command. 


The  Sword  of  Justice  123 


CHAPTER  VIII 

WHEN  Pierre  was  dropped  by  his  bearers  on 
the  floor  of  a  cell  in  the  little  guard-house  which 
stood  on  the  south  side  of  the  parade  facing  the 
barracks,  the  sense  of  relief  at  no  longer  feeling 
the  strain  on  his  wounded  leg  was  so  extreme 
that  it  amounted  almost  to  joy.  For  a  brief 
instant  he  forgot  that  he  was  wounded,  and  a  cap- 
tive, possibly  at  the  mercy  of  his  worst  enemy. 
He  greatly  desired  to  encounter  Philippe  de  Lava- 
latte ;  it  was  his  impatience  for  this  meeting  that 
had  driven  him  from  the  Indian  village  to  lurk 
in  the  vicinity  of  the  Fort,  as  he  had  done  for 
days  past. 

But  to  be  bound  fast  and  delivered  into  his 
enemy's  hands  as  he  now  was,  this  possibility 
had  never  entered  into  his  calculation.  The 
first  sense  of  relief  from  a  pain  well-nigh  un- 
endurable having  passed,  rage  at  his  folly 
swept  over  and  possessed  him  to  the  exclu- 
sion of  every  other  feeling.  His  wound  was 
still  bleeding,  more  slowly  now,  but  he  gave  it  no 
heed,  sitting  huddled  up  in  sullen  misery,  staring 
vacantly  at  the  rude  floor  of  split  logs,  every 


124  The  Sword  of  Justice 

knot  and  unevenness  photographing  itself  mi- 
nutely on  his  memory. 

He  would  not  permit  Father  Augustine,  who 
had  followed  the  bearers  into  the  cell,  to  unbind 
or  touch  his  wound,  painfully  striving,  when  the 
priest  attempted  it,  to  draw  his  leg  beneath  him 
and  guard  it  with  his  body.  His  hands  were 
still  bound  fast  behind  him.  In  vain  did  the 
old  man  assure  him  in  flowing  Spanish  that  he 
but  desired  to  examine  his  wound  and  relieve 
his  pain.  Pierre,  who,  although  he  understood 
not  a  word,  had  no  trouble  in  reading  the 
intention,  only  shook  his  head  savagely,  refusing 
the  proffered  aid. 

"  If  he  be  indeed  a  white  man  he  hath  caught 
some  of  the  stubborn  ways  of  the  Indian,"  com- 
mented one  of  the  two  soldiers  who  still  stood 
by  waiting  to  see  the  outcome  of  the  matter. 
"  Best  let  us  hold  the  fellow,  Padre,  then  you 
can  dress  his  wound  if  he  will  or  no.  It  must 
be  done,  for  the  Captain  bade  us  not  leave  until 
we  saw  to  it." 

"  Nay,  nay,"  said  the  old  priest,  gently  waving 
back  the  men  who  were  starting  forward  to  carry 
out  their  suggestion.  "The  lad  is  fearful  that 
we  intend  him  harm.  It  is  best  not  to  fret  him 
into  a  fever.  Go  you,"  said  he  to  one  of  the 
soldiers,  "  fetch  hither  the  little  French  maid, 
Eug6nie  Brissot.  His  ears  will  be  open  to  her 
speech  and  through  her  we  can  make  him  know 
we  only  desire  to  serve  him  well." 


The  Sword  of  Justice  125 

The  soldier  departed  promptly,  anxious  to 
have  done  with  the  business,  and  as  quickly 
returned  followed  by  Eugenie,  trembling  and 
afraid  lest  some  suspicion  of  her  meeting  with 
Pierre  had  come  to  the  knowledge  of  the  Span- 
iards. She  was  greatly  relieved  on  hearing  the 
priest's  explanation,  and  turned  to  speak  to 
Pierre  with  much  composure.  He  on  his  part 
had  heard  the  priest  pronounce  her  name  and 
seen  the  soldier  depart.  Putting  this  simple  two 
and  two  together,  he  was  not  long  in  guessing 
the  man's  errand.  He  was  therefore  on  guard 
even  before  he  heard  the  cheerful  click,  clack  of 
Eugenie's  sabots  outside  the  door.  When  she 
entered  he  neither  glanced  up  nor  appeared  to 
notice  her  coming  until  he  heard  her  say, — 

"  Pere  Augustine  wishes  me  to  say  to  you 
that  he  desires  to  cleanse  your  wound  and  bind 
it  up,  if  you  will  let  him,  and  that  no  harm  is 
intended  toward  you." 

He  recognized  by  the  guarded  speech  which 
omitted  the  use  of  his  name  that  Euge'nie  was 
fully  alive  to  the  danger  of  the  situation,  never- 
theless he  thought  it  wise  to  add  a  further  word 
of  caution. 

"  That  is  well,  be  guarded,  make  no  use  of  my 
name,  lest  it  betray  us.  Say  to  the  priest  that  I 
desire  to  be  left  in  peace,  that  my  wound  shall 
rot  and  grow  green  before  I  accept  service  at 
the  hands  of  my  enemy." 

When  Eugenie  translated  this,  the  old  man 


126  The  Sword  of  Justice 

shook  his  head,  making  at  the  same  time  three 
little  deprecatory  sounds  with  his  tongue  against 
his  teeth.  "  The  boy  is  very  young,  —  younger 
than  I  thought,"  he  muttered.  "  Ask  him,  then, 
my  child,  if  he  will  permit  you  to  dress  the 
wound,  for  it  must  be  done,  if  not  otherwise, 
then  by  force." 

Pierre  shook  his  head  decidedly  when  this  prop- 
osition was  repeated  to  him.  "  Nay,  it  is  no  sight 
for  a  woman,"  he  maintained  stoutly ;  "  say  to 
them  that  if  they  will  loose  my  hands  I  can  care 
for  the  wound  myself." 

Both  soldiers  were  quick  to  negative  this 
suggestion.  "  Let  the  cub  stay  trapped,  say  I," 
exclaimed  one  of  them  positively.  "  He  hath 
too  great  dexterity  in  casting  a  knife  to  be  a 
safe  one  to  let  free  until  the  prison  hath  tamed 
him  a  bit,"  chimed  in  the  other. 

"  I  pray  you  let  me  care  for  your  hurt," 
pleaded  Eugenie,  turning  to  Pierre ;  "  I  have  some 
skill  in  such  matters,  and  I  will  handle  you  most 
tenderly,  whereas  these  "  —  with  a  wave  of  her 
hand  toward  the  soldiers  —  "  they  will  have  little 
thought  for  your  suffering.  If  I  may  not  do  it, 
of  a  certainty  they  will." 

"Do  they  then  refuse  to  unbind  me?"  replied 
Pierre. 

"  They  fear  to  do  it,"  returned  the  girl,  a 
glimmer  of  pride  in  the  smile  which  she  turned 
upon  him.  Perhaps  she  saw  consent  in  Pierre's 
face,  for  she  went  quickly  on  her  knees  over  the 


The  Sword  of  Justice  127 

bleeding  leg  which  he  with  much  effort  straight- 
ened out,  even  while  he  protested  that  it  was  no 
fit  task  for  a  woman,  and  that  the  blood  would 
sicken  her.  With  fingers  that  showed  some 
practice,  and  more  natural  aptitude,  Eugenie 
deftly  unbound  the  blood-soaked  scarf  which 
the  soldiers  had  wound  about  the  wound,  and 
taking  a  knife  from  the  priest's  hand  she  slit  the 
leggin  to  the  knee  and  laid  it  back.  The  leg 
was  so  smeared  and  clotted  with  blood  that  it 
was  not  until  she  had  bathed  it  a  little  that  she 
discovered  a  hole  through  and  through  it,  the 
ball  having  torn  the  flesh  badly  and  gone  so 
close  to  the  bone  as  to  splinter  off  some  small 
bits.  These  she  was  not  slow  in  finding  when 
she  tenderly  inserted  her  finger  in  the  open 
wound.  Having  removed  the  splinters  and 
cleansed  the  hurt  thoroughly,  she  poured  in  a 
healing  balm  which  the  priest  had  brought,  and 
bound  up  the  leg  once  more. 

All  this  while  Pierre,  white  and  faint  from 
pain  and  loss  of  blood,  sat  with  grim  lips  com- 
pressed. When  she  had  finished  she  raised 
her  head,  demanding  gently,  "  Did  I  hurt  you 
sorely?  I  strove  not  to." 

"  Your  very  touch  carries  healing  with  it,"  he 
answered,  trying  to  give  her  a  reassuring  smile. 

"  I  would  I  could  do  something  more  for 
you,"  she  said,  tears  welling  up  in  her  eyes  as 
she  spoke.  "  It  is  because  of  me  this  evil  has 
befallen  you.  If  you  had  not  met  me  in  the 


128  The  Sword  of  Justice 

forest  this  had  never  been.  Tis  the  second 
time  I  have  brought  ill  fortune  upon  you.  Two 
years  ago  when  we  were  escaping  from  the  Fort 
it  was  my  silly  complaining  that  betrayed  us. 
Think  you  I  have  not  remembered  this  and 
sorrowed  because  of  it?  Now  — " 

The  tears  were  fast  threatening  to  get  be- 
yond control,  and  Pierre,  fearful  of  conse- 
quences, struck  in  on  her  self-accusing  almost 
harshly. 

"  Have  a  care,  have  a  care,"  he  warned. 

At  this  instant  one  of  the  soldiers  broke  out 
gruffly,  "  Come,  come,  enough  of  your  French 
jabber,  how  know  we  what  you  plot  together 
in  your  outlandish  tongue?" 

With  the  instinct  of  a  natural  actress  Eug6nie 
sprung  lightly  to  her  feet,  a  little  laugh  chasing 
away  the  threatening  tears.  She  shook  out  her 
crumpled  skirts  gayly.  "  As  to  that,  you  stupid 
fellow,  I  but  spoke  to  him  of  the  comfort  of  his 
hurt  leg.  You  would  doubtless  have  me  say 
all  my  say  to  him  in  Spanish.  It  is  small  mat- 
ter that  his  mind  is  not  open  to  one  word  of 
such  speech,  so  that  your  donkey  ears  catch 
every  sound."  At  which  bit  of  impertinence 
even  the  priest  smiled,  while  the  second  soldier 
guffawed  and  slapped  his  side  in  hearty  ap- 
preciation of  the  discomfiture  of  his  brother- 
in-arms.  His  joy  was  short  lived,  for  Eugenie 
turned  quickly  on  him.  "As  to  you,  get 
your  silly  mouth  together  quickly,  lest  an 


The  Sword  of  Justice  129 

alligator  take  it  for  the  opening  of  a  con- 
venient cave  wherein  to  make  a  home.  Come, 
now,  both  of  you  lend  a  hand  and  lift  the 
youth  to  the  bed,  where  he  will  have  more 
comfort."  She  ordered  the  two  strapping 
fellows  about  as  if  she  were  a  giant  and  they 
but  pigmies,  and  she  saw  to  it  that  they 
lifted  their  burden  gently  and  deposited  him 
with  considerate  care  on  the  pile  of  soft 
gray  moss  in  the  corner  which  did  duty  for  a 
bed. 

"  Why  will  you  not  unbind  him,"  she  coaxed, 
seeing  how  uncomfortable  his  position  must  be 
while  his  hands  remained  thus  fastened. 

"As  to  that,  we  will  wait  for  the  Senor 
Captain's  orders,"  they  returned.  With  this 
Eugenie  had  to  content  herself. 

Turning  to  Pierre  she  said,  "  I  go  now,  but  if 
they  permit,  I  will  come  again  presently  and 
bring  food  for  you.  Keep  your  heart  cheer- 
ful." So  saying  she  left  the  cell,  and  Pierre 
heard  the  key  turn  rustily  in  the  door  which 
closed  after  the  retreating  group. 

Left  alone,  unable  to  move,  there  remained 
nothing  for  him  save  to  go  over  the  events  of 
the  day  and  curse  the  childish  folly  which  had 
brought  him  thus,  alone,  into  the  power  of 
his  enemy.  He  looked  about  the  narrow  cell 
which  formed  his  prison.  It  was  rudely  built 
of  logs  and  thatched  with  palmetto,  as  were  the 
quarters  for  the  soldiers.  He  thought  grimly 
9 


1 30  The  Sword  of  Justice 

that  if  it  were  not  for  his  wound  he  could 
surely  find  some  means  of  escape,  but  to  what 
purpose  could  he  put  freedom  now  that  his 
leg  refused  to  bear  him?  He  seemed  sud- 
denly to  have  lost  all  control  over  it  and  the 
pain  was  intense. 

It  must  be  weeks  at  least  before,  even  with 
the  best  care,  he  could  hope  to  use  it  again.  In 
the  meantime  what  would  befall  him?  Death? 
—  well  that  must  come  to  all,  and  he  could  face 
it  as  bravely  as  another:  not  yet,  though,  not 
until  he  had  seen  his  enemy  laid  low.  Surely 
the  Master  of  Breath,  remembering  the  oath 
that  he  sware  when  he  stuck  the  split  feather 
in  his  head,  would  not  snatch  away  his  little 
span  of  life  until  he  had  made  good  the  oath 
of  vengeance.  If  he  be  but  allowed  this  one 
boon,  then  he  was  ready  to  go  out  of  the  world 
in  any  way  that  these  devils  chose  to  send  him ; 
to  show  them,  beside,  that  he  knew  how  to  die 
as  an  Indian  as  well  as  a  Frenchman.  Then 
into  his  bitter  musing,  his  bargaining  with  Fate, 
of  life  for  revenge,  came  his  mother's  word, 
"  Not  for  vengeance,  but  for  your  own  safety. 
'  Vengeance  is  mine,  saith  the  Lord,  I  will 
repay.' " 

For  a  while  his  soul  fought  over  this  ground, 
he  striving  to  cast  out  the  blood  desire  within 
him  that  he  might  meet  his  enemy  as  a 
righteous  executioner  rather  than  a  vengeful 
fury.  The  narrow  cell  had  grown  quite  dark 


The  Sword  of  Justice  131 

now  and  a  feeling  of  drowsiness  was  stealing 
over  him. 

One  thought  only  stood  out  in  warm  relief 
against  his  dark  day :  Eugenie  was  not  far  dis- 
tant, doubtless  she  would  come  again — soon. 


1 32  TJie  Sword  of  Justice 


CHAPTER  IX 

THE  turning  of  the  rusty  key  in  the  lock  dis- 
turbed the  light  slumber  of  the  prisoner.  His 
eyes  unclosed  to  find  the  cell  in  total  darkness. 
He  watched  eagerly  for  the  opening  door,  the 
showing  of  a  light  beyond,  nothing  doubting 
that  it  was  Eugenie  returning  as  she  had  prom- 
ised. He  sat  up  after  some  effort :  it  was  hard 
to  move  with  a  wounded  leg  and  arms  bound. 
He  saw  the  door  swing  open,  the  crack  of  light 
widened  into  a  rectangle  which  framed,  not  the 
figure  of  Eugenie  Brissot,  but  that  of  a  tall, 
dark  man.  His  face  was  fitfully  revealed  by 
the  flaring  flame  of  a  rush-light,  set  in  a  rude 
wooden  holder  and  borne  by  a  soldier  who 
peered  from  behind  the  shoulders  of  the  man 
in  advance  of  him,  striving  to  send  his  gaze 
into  the  blackness  of  the  cell. 

"  Give  me  the  light  and  leave  us,  Manuel,  but 
do  not  lock  the  door,"  commanded  the  first 
comer  curtly,  advancing  into  the  room  as  he 
spoke.  He  waited  until  the  door  closed,  then 
turned  toward  Pierre.  Two  years  had  not 
wrought  such  a  great  change  in  him  that  the 
boy's  memory  did  not  at  once  place  him,  and 


The  Sword  of  Justice  133 

I  think  had  memory  failed,  a  certain  animal 
instinct,  strongly  developed  by  his  half  savage 
life,  would  have  taught  him  that  he  was  in  the 
presence  of  his  enemy.  He  had  struggled  up 
from  the  bed  and  stood  on  his  unwounded  leg, 
his  bound  hands  behind  him,  leaning  against 
the  wall  for  support.  To  sit  and  let  this  man 
stand  above  him,  look  down  on  him,  helpless  as 
he  was,  this  was  more  than  Pierre's  young  spirit 
could  endure.  Lavalatte  came  nearer,  holding 
the  feeble  light  so  that  it  flared  an  instant  on 
the  boy's  face.  How  every  familiar  feature 
scourged  his  memory  as  he  looked.  The  same 
face,  moulded  in  stronger,  heavier  lines,  and  on 
it  the  same  look  of  hate  and  contempt  which 
had  burned  itself  into  his  brain. 

For  a  full  minute  the  two  gazed  fairly  each 
into  the  other's  face.  One  pair  of  eyes  sent 
forth  challenge  and  defiance,  the  other  had  in 
their  depths  something  almost  like  pleading. 
Despite  the  boy's  helpless  position  he  wore  a 
look  of  such  fearless  dignity  that  it  seemed  fairly 
to  quell  the  man  before  him  and  reverse  their 
positions,  turning  the  prisoner  into  the  judge. 
Then  almost  simultaneously  they  uttered,  the 
one,  his  enemy's  name ;  the  other,  the  brief  con- 
vincing words,  "  You  are  Pierre." 

"Yes,  Pierre,"  exclaimed  the  younger  man, 
"  and  you  have  doubtless  come  hither  to  take 
the  life  of  the  helpless  son,  even  as  you  took  the 
honor  of  the  helpless  mother." 


1 34  The  Sword  of  Justice 

Lavalatte  held  out  his  other  hand  weaponless 
and  empty.  Before  making  other  answer  than 
this  he  seated  himself  on  a  heavy  wooden  stool 
which  formed  all  the  furniture  of  the  little  cell, 
and  placed  the  candle  on  the  floor  beside  him. 
Its  light  threw  his  distorted  shadow  across  the 
wall  and  ceiling,  —  a  shadow  which  writhed 
and  twisted  with  every  movement  of  the  man  or 
flicker  of  the  flame. 

"  Suppose  instead  that  I  have  come  to  offer 
you  freedom,"  said  he  at  length,  slowly. 

Pierre's  answer  leaped  from  his  lips  in  hot 
impatience.  "Then  would  I  say,  from  your 
hand  I  would  not  take  freedom  from  my  cap- 
tivity, nor  life  if  I  were  dying  under  the  torture 
of  Indians,  nor  a  crumb  if  I  were  starving.  My 
score  against  you  is  too  long  for  any  act  of 
yours  to  abate  it  one  jot,  and  I  choose  to  take 
only  ill  at  your  hands  until  the  hour  when  I  can 
repay  all,  with  one  blow." 

"  You  speak  with  some  certainty  of  the  com- 
ing of  that  hour,  which  is  strange,  seeing  your 
poor  plight  at  this  instant,"  returned  the  man 
calmly. 

"  I  know  I  am  a  prisoner,  wounded,  helpless, 
and  at  your  mercy;  but  it  will  not  always  be 
thus  that  we  meet.  I  have  kept  my  vigil  beside 
my  watch-fire,  and  the  spirit  that  came  to  me 
there  has  delivered  you  into  my  hands."  He 
spoke  solemnly  as  if  he  repeated  the  words  of 
another,  and  as  he  spoke  he  no  longer  doubted, 


The  Sword  of  Justice  135 

but  believed  himself  all  those  things  which  he 
uttered. 

The  man  before  him  gave  a  little  unnoticed 
shudder.  The  boy's  tone  was  such  as  to  arouse 
superstitious  fear  in  the  mind  of  any  prone  to 
it.  Nevertheless,  Lavalatte  answered  jeeringly, 
"  Drop  your  childish  prating  and  listen  to 
reason.  What  can  you  do  with  a  wounded  leg, 
a  prisoner  in  the  hands  of  your  gentle  enemies? 
They  may  keep  you  for  awhile  until  word  is 
come  from  San  Augustine,  but  in  the  end  do 
you,  who  have  seen  their  butcher's  work,  doubt 
your  fate  ?  Take  my  aid,  by  it  we  will  escape, 
and  you  shall  lead  me  to  the  village  of  the  In- 
dians, —  to  the  woman  I  love.  There  we  three 
can  dwell  and  become  one  with  the  savages 
until  return  to  France  is  possible.  I  have  done 
amiss,  I  acknowledge  my  fault,  I  will  do  what  I 
can  to  atone.  By  any  rite  which  she  pleases  I 
will  wed  Amalie,  and  thus  wash  out  the  stain 
I  have  put  upon  her." 

While  he  spoke  Pierre's  anger  had  been  ris- 
ing higher  and  higher,  shaking  him  by  its  very 
impotence,  distorting  his  face  and  well-nigh 
choking  back  the  utterance  of  the  words  which 
came  tumbling  to  his  lips. 

"  Man,  man,"  he  raged,  "  do  you  not  know 
that  it  is  to  her  son  that  you  speak?  Oh,  great 
God  above  us,  give  me  my  freedom  for  one  little 
instant,"  he  prayed  wildly;  then  at  Lavalatte 
again,  "  Dog  that  you  are,  the  very  savages 


1 36  The  Sword  of  Justice 

that  you  would  dwell  among,  knowing  you, 
would  stone  you  from  their  midst  and  leave  you 
to  the  vultures  and  birds  of  prey  that  are  your 
kin." 

Stung  in  spite  of  himself  by  the  measureless 
contempt  in  the  other's  tone,  Lavalatte  started 
from  his  seat  with  clinched  fist.  Controlling 
himself  in  time  he  fell  back  again,  "  Where  is 
your  mother?"  he  questioned,  grasping  a  forced 
calmness. 

The  boy  vouchsafed  no  answer  but  stood 
staring  down  at  him. 

"  Keeping  silent  will  not  save  her,  my  young 
warrior,"  he  sneered.  "  I  start  to-morrow  with 
a  force  of  Spaniards  for  the  village  from  which 
you  came.  We  will  see  if  these  redskins  can 
stand  against  our  arquebuses."  He  watched 
intently  to  see  the  boy  flinch.  He  did  not; 
instead  there  spread  over  his  face  a  look  of 
such  solemn  import,  such  calm,  such  assurance, 
that  it  pierced  like  a  spoken  word  to  the  brain 
of  his  watching  adversary.  Lavalatte's  face 
began  to  whiten,  he  half  rose  from  the  stool, 
shaking  so  that  it  was  hard  for  him  to  stand. 
"  Not  —  dead  ?  "  he  almost  shrieked,  holding  out 
his  hand  imploringly. 

"Yes  —  dead.  She  died  in  the  forest,  alone 
with  me;  my  hands  shaped  her  shallow  grave 
and  put  her  in  it.  Before  she  died  she  told  me 
all,  and  bade  me  slay  you  as  ruthlessly  as  I 
would  a  poisonous  viper.  Strike  me  if  you 


The  Sword  of  Justice  1 37 

will,"  for  in  his  mad  rage  at  the  boy's  words 
Lavalatte  had  advanced  with  upraised  arm. 
"  You  may  beat  me  down,  plunge  your  dagger 
into  my  heart,  but  you  cannot  kill  me.  I  shall 
live  to  stand  above  you  ;  dying,  my  face  bending 
over  you  so  like  hers  shall  become  hers;  my 
hand  and  her  hand,  striking,  shall  become  one, 
and  she  shall  rest  avenged." 


138  The  Sword  of  Justice 


CHAPTER  X 

IT  was  night.  In  the  public  square  of  the  Indian 
village  there  was  a  gathering  which  denoted  that 
matters  of  interest  to  the  tribe  were  going 
forward. 

In  the  centre  of  the  open  space  a  great  fire  of 
pine  logs  burned,  sending  out  long  tongues  of 
red  flame  and  throwing  a  lurid  glow  over  the 
rows  on  rows  of  dark,  silent,  squatting  fig- 
ures. The  whole  population  of  the  town  were 
assembled.  Back  of  the  men  could  be  seen  the 
dull-faced  women,  whose  quickly  moving  curious 
eyes  were  the  only  sign  of  life  which  they  permit- 
ted themselves.  In  the  front  row  sat  the  chief, 
and  the  older  braves  of  the  tribe.  From  every 
mouth  ascended  the  curling  incense  of  tobacco 
smoke,  and  the  pipes,  like  winking  fire-flies, 
glowed  into  starlike  brightness  with  each  long 
inhalation. 

Despite  the  solemn  countenances,  the  un- 
moved look  on  those  rows  of  faces,  the  very  air 
seemed  charged  with  excitement.  Among  the 
striplings  and  younger  warriors  an  uneasy  shift- 
ing of  the  limbs  from  time  to  time  betrayed 
their  impatience  and  lack  of  self-control. 


The  Sword  of  Justice  1 39 

The  reason  which  had  given  rise  to  this  gath- 
ering, had  its  beginning  in  the  morning,  when 
Satouriona  and  his  nephew  Olotoraca  talked 
together  in  the  lodge  of  the  chief.  The  older 
man's  countenance  had  worn  a  heavy  brooding 
look,  and  deeper  lines  were  marking  themselves  in 
his  face.  It  had  been  so,  these  many  days,  as 
sun  followed  sun,  and  still  the  seat  of  Chepane 
remained  empty.  The  vacant  spot  where  his 
bow  and  quiver  used  to  hang  seemed  so  large, 
that  turn  his  eyes  where  he  would,  Satouriona 
was  ever  gazing  at  it. 

Nothing  had  been  thought  of  the  boy's 
absence  when  two  or  three  days  passed  and  he 
did  not  return.  He  was  in  the  habit  of  wander- 
ing off  on  solitary  hunts,  returning  at  his  pleas- 
ure: but  as  time  went  on  and  still  he  did  not 
come,  unrest  began  to  possess  the  dwellers  in 
the  chief's  lodge. 

Olotoraca  broke  the  silence  which  had  lasted 
between  them  for  some  time. 

"  An  evil  thought  is  preying  on  the  heart  of 
my  father  and  tearing  at  his  spirit?" 

The  chief's  eyes  wandered  toward  the  boy's 
vacant  seat  before  he  answered,  and  it  was  as  if 
his  eyes  as  well  as  his  lips  uttered  the  words, 
"  My  white  son,  where  is  he  ?  "  Then  as  Olot- 
oraca shook  his  head  and  vouchsafed  no  reply, 
he  continued,  "  Since  the  Master  of  Breath  hath 
opened  the  mind  of  his  eye,  has  his  love  turned 
to  the  people  of  white  faces  and  black  deeds  who 


140  The  Sword  of  Justice 

dwell  by  the  great  river?  Has  he  then  gone 
from  the  lodge  of  the  people  of  his  heart  and 
forgotten  his  red  father?" 

"Never,  O  my  father,"  answered  Olotoraca 
with  decision.  "  Chepane  has  the  skin  of  the 
white  man,  but  his  heart  is  the  heart  of  a  red 
man,  which  does  not  forget  or  turn  aside." 

"  Where,  then,  is  he  that  he  comes  no  more  to 
his  place  in  the  lodge,"  demanded  the  chief, 
pointing  dramatically  to  the  spot  set  apart  for 
the  boy. 

"  I  have  heavy  fears,  my  father,  that  he  hath 
fallen  into  the  hands  of  the  black-hearted  ones 
who  would  buy  him  of  us,  and  could  not.  To- 
night beside  the  fire  of  our  people,  if  the  great 
medicine-man  of  the  tribe  says  that  it  is  well,  I 
will  chant  my  song  of  war  and  stir  in  the  hearts 
of  our  braves  the  thirst  to  avenge  the  blood  of 
my  white  brother,  —  if  he  is  indeed  dead,  —  or 
if  he  still  lives  we  will  bring  him  again  to  thee. 
Does  my  father  look  with  smiling  eye  on  this 
the  wish  of  my  heart,"  asked  Olotoraca  watching 
eagerly  for  the  sign  of  approval  without  which 
he  was  loth  to  move. 

"Do  as  thou  hast  spoken,  my  son.  Thy 
heart's  wish  is  even  as  my  own.  My  thought 
already  drinks  up  the  blood  of  my  white  son's 
enemies,  and  my  hands  long  to  hold  their 
scalps.  Go  as  thou  hast  said.  I  will  seek  the 
lodge  of  Helmacarpa  and  see  if  the  talk  of  the 
spirits  is  with  us." 


The  Sword  of  Justice  141 

And  Helmacarpa  having  given  favorable 
signs  and  omens,  the  village  came  together 
when  darkness  fell,  and  the  war  dance  was 
about  to  begin. 

From  among  a  group  of  the  young  braves 
the  tall  figure  of  Olotoraca  rose  at  length,  and 
strode  forward  into  the  bright  circle  of  the  fire- 
light. He  was  clad  in  all  his  braveries,  and 
rudely  painted  across  the  chest  in  crude  colors 
and  designs,  among  which  his  totem,  the  alli- 
gator, twisted  itself. 

His  belt  tinkled  with  hanging  shells,  and 
bright  bits  of  metal,  and  he  wore  a  necklace  of 
claws  about  his  throat.  His  face  was  daubed 
with  streaks  of  crimson  pigment  which  distorted 
his  fine  expression  into  one  of  diabolical  feroc- 
ity. In  his  black  hair  lock  he  proudly  wore 
an  eagle's  feather  with  a  gash  cut  in  its 
broadest  side.  The  lips  of  this  wound  were 
banded  by  a  broad  streak  of  scarlet  paint. 
This  crest  signified  that  he  had  already  cut 
the  throat  of  an  enemy.  In  his  hand  he 
carried  a  war-club,  also  smeared  with  the  red 
pigment,  so  that  it  seemed  to  drip  with  fresh 
blood. 

Standing  as  he  did,  strongly  silhouetted 
against  the  red  flash  of  the  leaping  flames 
behind,  he  looked  almost  heroic  in  size;  a 
sight  to  inspire  confidence  in  his  strength  and 
prowess. 

Squatting  on  the  ground  not  far  away  were 


142  The  Sword  of  Justice 

the  players  of  the  tawaiegons,  with  sticks 
upraised  ready  to  begin  their  rhythmic  beat 
when  the  first  note  of  the  expected  war  song 
sounded  on  the  still  air.  Stamping  his  right 
foot  to  the  earth,  with  head  upraised  and  nos- 
trils quivering  like  an  impatient  steed,  Oloto- 
raca  flourished  his  war-club,  and  in  a  sing-song 
chant  whose  rhythm  was  strongly  marked  he 
began : 

"  Give  me,  ye  Gods,  the  wings  of  a  war  eagle, 

I  will  away  —  to  the  south, 
The  blood  of  my  heart  cries  out  for  the  battle, 
As  the  tongue  of  my  mouth. 

"  Already  the  vultures  are  gathering  thickly 

Low  they  stoop  —  swift  they  swoop, 
Their  talons  are  red  from  the  feast  I  have  spread, 
They  have  come  to  the  call  of  my  fierce  war-whoop." 

As  he  chanted,  louder  and  louder  the  tawaiegons 
rumbled,  and  grumbled,  and  coughed,  in  sharp 
staccato.  Now,  Olotoraca  was  speeding  round 
and  round  the  dancing  flames,  his  head  thrown 
forward,  his  shoulders  slightly  drooped,  his 
whole  attitude  suggesting  the  stealthy  following 
of  a  trail,  a  blood-thirsty  eagerness  to  pounce 
upon  his  victim.  From  time  to  time  he  paused 
long  enough  to  strike  the  earth  with  his  stamp- 
ing foot,  and  sound  forth  a  war-whoop  which 
stirred  the  blood  of  the  listening  throng,  and 
echoed  among  the  vacant  huts,  until  at  last  it 


The  Sword  of  Justice  143 

lost  itself  in  the  labyrinths  of  the  forest  beyond. 
Quickly,  then,  would  he  take  up  his  rhythmic 
dog-trot  in  the  narrow  circle  about  the  fire, 
uttering  short  ejaculatory  sentences,  which 
seemed  the  safety  valve  to  a  heart  too  full  to 
hold  its  seething  thoughts.  Already  a  wave  of 
restlessness  seemed  gathering  to  the  crest 
amongst  the  squatting  braves ;  every  face  watch- 
ing that  swift  moving  figure  in  the  firelight, 
mirrored  a  keen  barbaric  delight  They  were 
dallying  with  the  impulse  which  stirred  them  to 
follow  in  its  wake,  they  were  holding  back  until 
this  feeling  should  have  gathered  the  force  of  a 
compelling  ecstasy.  The  first  break  in  the 
group  came  from  among  the  younger  braves, 
who  were  as  yet  untutored  in  the  joys  of  this 
subtle  restraint  put  upon  the  awakening  lust  for 
blood. 

One  by  one,  with  wild  resounding  whoop 
they  sprang  from  their  places  and  fell  in  behind 
that  ever-moving  figure,  heads  protruding,  the 
right  foot  emphasizing  by  its  more  forceful 
stroke  the  exact  measure  of  the  tawaiegons' 
beat,  while  like  swift  arrows  their  harsh  sen- 
tences pierced  the  night  air. 

Round  and  round  they  went,  gathering,  and 
gathering,  ever  widening  that  trotting  circle; 
the  frenzy  of  the  men  even  communicating 
itself  at  length  to  the  women  beyond,  who 
silently  swayed  to  the  stroke  of  the  drum,  some- 
times tossing  their  arms  aloft  in  an  ecstasy 


144  The  Sword  of  Justice 

which  sought  and  found  expression  in  motion 
because  speech  was  denied. 

In  the  early  dawn  of  the  next  day,  thirty 
warriors  filed  out  of  the  village  armed  and  pro- 
visioned. Olotoraca's  war  party  had  gone  forth 
to  the  rescue  of  Pierre. 


The  Sword  of  Justice  145 


CHAPTER  XI 

To  Pierre,  confined  in  the  narrow  quarters  of 
Fort  San  Mateo  guard-house,  unable  to  move 
even  within  this  limited  space,  the  days  passed 
very  slowly.  It  was  not  only  the  pain  in  his 
wounded  leg  which  made  him  lose  flesh  and 
grow  pale  as  time  went  by.  The  close  confine- 
ment, shut  away  from  open  air  and  sunshine, 
after  his  long  continued  half  savage  existence 
was  quite  as  hard  to  bear.  His  mind  also  did  its 
share  of  preying  upon  the  body.  The  bitter, 
impotent  wrath  which  burned  in  him  at  thought 
of  his  enemy's  nearness,  as  well  as  his  forebod- 
ings of  the  future,  altogether  created  a  condition 
hard  for  him  to  bear. 

Eugenie  was  allowed  to  come  to  him  once  a 
day  to  dress  and  care  for  the  wound  which  was 
healing  healthily  and  rapidly.  Upon  promise 
of  good  behavior,  extorted  reluctantly  from  him 
by  the  girl's  reasoning,  the  guard  had  consented 
to  undo  his  hands.  This  gave  him  a  little  more 
comfort,  but  the  days  passed  drearily  enough, 
spent  as  they  were  in  the  dim  half  light  of  the 
narrow  cell,  given  over  a  prey  to  useless  regrets 
for  his  failure ;  while  for  occupation  he  had 


1 46  The  Sword  of  Justice 

nothing  save  to  count  the  knots  on  the  logs  or 
busy  himself  with  endless  plans  for  escape  when 
his  leg  should  be  healed. 

Yet  in  spite  of  all  this,  he  could  not  find  it  in 
him  to  be  altogether  sorry  for  a  state  of  affairs 
which  every  day  brought  him  a  glimpse  of 
Eugenie's  laughing  face  and  the  soft  touch  of 
her  fingers  among  the  bandages.  From  his 
waking  in  the  morning  until  her  coming,  he 
watched  the  door  with  eager  eyes,  his  heart 
stirring  joyously  at  every  sound  which  might  be 
her  step,  and  his  impatient  imaginings  filling  all 
the  silence  with  the  resounding  echoes  of  her 
light  footfall. 

When  at  length  she  did  come,  and  bent  over 
her  self-imposed  task  with  a  tenderness  which 
she  was  at  no  pains  to  conceal,  when  he  saw  in 
her  face  the  artless  childish  reflection  of  the 
love  which  had  grown  in  his  own  heart,  when 
sometimes  her  dear  nearness  could  resolve  itself 
into  fleeting  actual  contact,  then,  he  almost 
blessed  the  evil  fate  which  had  trapped  him. 
If  only  the  guard  would  mercifully  turn  his  back 
an  instant  or  close  the  door.  This  he  never 
did.  He  stood,  eyes  open  to  everything,  if 
happily  for  them  his  ears  were  closed  to  an 
understanding  of  their  speech.  Sometimes  in 
his  impatience  or  curiosity  he  would  object  to 
their  talk,  only  to  receive  the  laughing  rejoinder 
from  Eugenie  "  Stupid,  shall  I  speak  to  him  in 
a  speech  of  which  he  has  no  understanding." 


The  Sword  of  Jit  slice  147 

And  the  common  sense  of  this  simple  answer 
would  settle  the  matter  for  a  time. 

They  were  very  discreet,  these  two,  far  more 
so  than  their  years  warranted.  They  had  a 
care  not  to  show  over  much  interest  in  each 
other,  though  poor  Pierre  could  not  always  veil 
his  tell-tale  eyes. 

Eugenie  brought  him  hopeful  little  messages 
from  old  Jean,  her  father,  who  promised  to  find 
some  way  to  help  Pierre  escape  when  the  time 
was  ripe.  As  the  wound  grew  better,  she  it 
was,  also,  who  warned  him  not  to  let  the  guard 
see  any  signs  of  the  fast  returning  strength  in 
his  leg.  By  this  ruse  they  hoped  to  relax  the 
vigilance  of  the  watch. 

So  even  this  dark  time  was  not  without  its 
joys,  which  the  boy  was  quick  to  grasp  and 
make  the  most  of. 

He  thought  much  of  Satouriona  and  his  Indian 
home,  and  wondered  if  they  mourned  him  as 
dead,  or  if  any  inkling  of  the  truth  had  come  to 
them.  He  regretted  now  his  foolish  silence  in 
regard  to  his  plans.  Possibly  they  might  have 
attempted  a  rescue  had  they  known,  though 
even  his  youthful  imagination  could  scarcely 
contrive  a  way  for  those  savages,  armed  only 
with  primitive  weapons  to  assault  and  carry  a 
fortified  position,  strongly  guarded  by  men  in 
armor,  and  bearing  fire-arms. 

Time  slipped  away  until  two  weeks  had 
elapsed,  then  came  a  day  when  Pierre  watched 


148  The  Sword  of  Justice 

from  dawn  to  darkness  for  Eugenie  and  saw  her 
not.  That  night  closed  in  drearily  and  sleep 
was  long  in  coming  to  him,  for  his  busy  brain 
went  ever  round  and  round  seeking  an  explana- 
tion for  her  absence.  Another  day  came 
bringing  no  Eugenie.  Then  fear  seized  on 
him  that  Jean's  promise  of  help  had  become 
known  to  them ;  that  news  had  come  from  San 
Augustine  that  he,  Pierre,  was  condemned  to 
death  and  no  one  was  to  be  allowed  to  see  him ; 
e^very  contingency  that  the  ingenuity  of  thought 
could  present,  came  to  him  in  turn  in  those  evil 
hours.  He  could  ask  no  questions  if  he  would. 
He  took  the  food  and  water  brought  to  him 
three  times  a  day,  and  spent  the  rest  of  his  time 
in  solitary  maddening  thought  from  which  the 
slow  dragging  hours  gave  him  no  relief.  He 
dressed  his  leg  as  best  he  could  and  took  some 
small  comfort  in  the  knowledge  that  it  was 
making  rapid  improvement. 

Another  day  came  and  went,  and  another, 
until  a  week  had  passed.  Fears  for  Eugenie's 
safety,  the  uncertainty  as  to  his  own  fate,  the 
horror  of  loneliness  without  occupation,  the 
pining  of  his  freedom-loving  lungs  for  one 
clean  breath  of  forest  air,  all  these  things 
and  many  others  of  minor  importance,  drew 
him  almost  to  the  verge  of  that  madness 
which  had  threatened  him  not  many  weeks 
ago. 

He   felt  it  creeping   near,  he  discerned    his 


The  Sword  of  Justice  149 

danger  and  strove  against  it.  He  could  not, 
he  would  not,  be  dragged  into  that  dreaded 
unknown,  unseen  world,  forever  to  dwell  the 
only  reality  among  the  surrounding  shadows. 

He  was  in  this  mood  of  despair  on  the  after- 
noon of  the  eighth  day  of  unbroken  solitude, 
when  a  light  sound  fell  on  his  ear  which 
brought  him  to  a  sitting  position,  alert  and 
intent  on  the  instant.  Surely  this  was  not  the 
trickery  of  his  overwrought  brain,  this  was  a 
real  sound,  the  sound  for  which  his  heart  as 
well  as  his  ears  had  waited  eight  weary  days. 
The  key  grated  in  the  lock,  the  door  swung 
open  framing  the  figure  of  Eugenie  and  the 
sentry  behind  her.  Pierre's  heart  leaped  up 
in  wild  thanksgiving  at  her  safety;  but  even 
in  this  instant  of  joy  his  quick  eye  took  note 
of  the  pale  sorrowful  face,  the  drooping  curve 
of  the  mouth,  and  the  bright  eyes  dimmed  and 
reddened  by  overmuch  weeping. 

"  Eugenie,  darling,"  he  cried,  forgetful  for 
the  instant  of  caution,  in  his  face  joy  and  con- 
cern striving  for  the  mastery  and  writing  a 
plain  record  for  the  easy  reading  for  any  who 
cared  to  look. 

"What  hath  befallen  —  where  have  you 
been?"  he  questioned  impatiently,  as  the  girl, 
trying  bravely  to  control  her  quivering  face,  bent 
at  once  over  the  clumsy  bandages  and  began 
to  attend  to  the  task  which  was  her  only  excuse 
for  being  there. 


1 50  The  Sword  of  Justice 

"  My  father,"  she  gasped,  trying  to  choke 
back  her  sobs,  "  Dead." 

"  Dead,"  repeated  Pierre,  dazed  at  this  simple 
solution  of  her  absence,  which  had  not  occurred 
to  him.  He  flinched  as  with  physical  pain, 
when  he  felt  two  great  hot  tears  fall  on  his  bare 
leg,  and  he  longed  to  seize  her,  and  hold  her  in 
his  arms  while  he  found  words  to  comfort. 

Was  it  that  good  spirit  which  hovers  over 
lovers,  that  prompted  the  officer  of  the  guard 
to  send  at  this  moment  a  sudden  and  peremp- 
tory summons  to  the  sentry  at  the  door?  Jose 
hesitated,  and  glancing  at  the  girl,  seemingly 
concerned  over  nothing  but  the  task  before 
her,  finally  shut  the  door  with  a  bang  and 
turned  the  key  in  the  lock. 

"Yes,"  she  continued  in  answer  to  Pierre's 
exclamation  of  surprise,  "that  is  why  I  have 
not  been  here,  he  has  been  ill  —  so  ill.  Last 
night  he  died;  we  have  but  now  come  from 
burying  him.  Oh,  my  poor  father !  "  She  broke 
down  completely  covering  her  face  with  her 
hands,  "Now  I  have  no  one;  I  am  alone." 

"Not  while  I  live,"  exclaimed  Pierre  ten- 
derly. "  Never  grieve  so,  sweetheart.  We  must 
escape,  you  shall  go  with  me,  I  have  a  plan. 
We  will  go  free  and  live  among  my  Indian 
people  who  will  give  us  shelter,  until  some 
day  we  can  go  home  to  France." 

"That  cannot  be,  Pierre,  I  would  but  bring 
ill  fortune  to  you,  as  twice  before  I  have  done. 


The  Sword  of  Justice  151 

'T  was  through  me  that  you  were  captured,  and 
through  me  that  we  failed  to  escape  in  that 
awful  day  of  blood  two  years  ago.  Nay,  I 
would  but  bring  ill  a  third  time." 

"  Then  bring  me  ill,  for  without  you  there 
is  no  good  in  all  the  world,"  he  protested 
tenderly. 

She  raised  her  head,  looked  into  his  face  an 
instant  and  saw  the  measureless  love  shining  in 
his  young  eyes;  and  her  heart  stretched  out 
toward  it  with  the  first  feeling  of  comfort  which 
her  desolation  had  known. 

"Do  you  indeed  love  me?"  she  questioned 
as  simply  as  a  child.  Then  seeing  his  answer, 
which  was  two  longing  arms  held  open  for  her, 
she  crept  into  them  and  felt  them  close  tenderly 
about  her.  "  I  thank  you,  Pierre,"  she  mur- 
mured gratefully. 

As  for  him,  who  can  say,  in  that  fresh,  clean 
heart  of  youth,  on  which  the  world  had  laid 
no  soiling  touch,  what  holy  feelings  and  high 
resolves  came  thronging,  as  he  held  her  sweet 
life  close  to  his  own  and  knew  that  for  the 
future  years,  he  must  bear  this  dear  burden, 
safeguarding  it  in  myriad  dangers  from  others, 
ay,  possibly  even  from  himself. 


152  The  Sword  of  Justice 


CHAPTER  XII 

A  WAVE  of  excitement  was  running  like  wild- 
fire through  the  Indian  village ;  the  braves, 
the  half-grown  striplings,  the  children,  —  even 
the  squaws,  bearing  their  stolid  little  papooses 
strapped  to  their  backs,  —  had  forsaken  work 
and  pleasure,  and  were  gathering  with  eager 
curiosity  in  the  village  square.  The  news  had 
flown  through  the  lodges  that  the  war  party  of 
Olotoraca  was  returning,  was  even  now  at  the 
entrance  of  the  palisade  which  guarded  the 
town.  From  the  chiefs  lodge  above,  Satou- 
riona  could  be  seen  descending  the  path  to 
meet  the  home-coming  warriors,  advancing 
with  a  quicker  pace  than  his  dignity  gener- 
ally permitted. 

As  the  war  party  filed  slowly  in,  led  by 
Olotoraca,  silent  and  gloomy,  followed  by 
twenty-nine  of  the  thirty  who  had  gone  forth, 
there  was  no  need  for  curious  eyes  to  seek 
the  one  who  bore  the  bleeding  scalps,  or 
to  run  their  quick  glances  down  the  line  for 
a  sight  of  the  white  youth  whom  they  had 
gone  forth  to  rescue.  The  silent  entry,  the 
gloomy  faces,  told  their  tale  of  failure  without 
words,  and  the  deep  quiet  in  the  waiting  crowd 


The  Sword  of  Justice  153 

became  almost  painful,  broken  as  it  was  only 
by  the  sound  of  quick  breathing  from  many 
throats,  and  the  light  noise  of  tramping  mocca- 
sined  feet. 

Suddenly,  on  the  tense  stillness,  fell  the  cry 
of  a  woman.  Twenty-nine  warriors  had  fol- 
lowed the  chief;  one  came  not,  and  the  heart 
of  the  squaw  of  "  Wings  of  the  Eagle "  cried 
out,  while  she  gathered  her  long  black  hair 
before  her  face  like  a  veil  and  began  the  death 
wail  of  her  people. 

Satouriona  reached  the  square  and  met  his 
nephew  face  to  face.  His  eyes  made  their 
quick,  fruitless  search  and  returned  to  fasten 
themselves  with  questioning  severity  on  the 
leader  who  stood  before  him. 

"  My  white  son,  where  is  he  ? "  he  asked 
sternly. 

Olotoraca  made  no  answer. 

"  And  the  scalps  of  our  white  enemies  where 
are  they?"  demanded  the  chief  with  increas- 
ing sternness,  though  for  an  instant  his  eye 
wavered  from  the  figure  before  him  to  let  a 
fleeting  glance  of  concern  rest  upon  his  son 
Athore  who  stood  among  the  younger  war- 
riors. Then  again,  and  again  no  answer, 
"Where  is  'Wings  of  the  Eagle '?" 

"  Have  my  warriors  become  squaws,  that  no 
blood  marks  the  way  of  their  going?  Do  the 
vultures  no  longer  follow  their  steps  and  wait 
for  the  feast  of  their  making?" 


154  The  Sword  of  Justice 

"We  are  men,  not  squaws,  my  father;  we 
went  against  our  enemies.  But  the  walls  of 
the  white  men  are  strong  and  our  weapons 
are  weak,  moreover,  they  watch  on  the  high 
places  against  surprise.  Our  arrows  could  but 
fly  like  birds  over  their  strong  walls,  or  bury 
themselves  harmless  in  the  earth.  For  many 
days  we  lurked  in  the  forest,  and  waited  to 
fall  on  them  unawares  if  they  came  forth. 
After  a  long  watch,  a  few  did  come,  but  when 
we  bent  our  bows  at  them,  they  made  their 
long  black  poles  to  speak  fire  with  loud  voices, 
and  the  speech  of  their  black  poles  smote 
'Wings  of  the  Eagle,'  and  he  fell  to  rise  no 
more.  We  pursued  the  people  of  black  hearts, 
sending  arrows  after  them  like  rain  at  the 
Big  Spring  Moon,  and  one  fell  pierced  with 
our  darts,  but  they  bore  him  between  them, 
and  got  quickly  within  their  walls  and  came 
forth  no  more,  though  we  waited  until  our 
food  was  all  eaten."  Olotoraca  made  his  recital 
in  a  calm  level  tone  which  took  /rom  it  any 
seeming  of  apology.  No  sound  had  broken 
the  stillness  while  he  spoke  except  a  cry  from 
the  new-made  widow  when  her  husband's  fall- 
ing was  told. 

And  now  a  great  stillness  had  fallen  and  they 
waited,  waited,  now  turning  their  eyes  toward 
young  Athore,  now  letting  them  stray  along 
the  group  of  squatting  braves  as  if  they  ques- 
tioned as  to  who  should  take  the  initiative. 


The  Sword  of  Jtistice  155 

At  length  a  grizzled  warrior  rose  from  his 
place  and  seizing  an  arrow  which  was  stuck  into 
the  ground,  he  advanced  toward  Athore  and 
smote  him  with  it,  making  a  deep  scratch  in  the 
flesh,  from  which  the  bright  dark  blood  flowed 
freely ;  as  he  smote  him  he  lifted  up  his  head 
crying,  "  Hiou,"  letting  the  last  part  of  the  word 
die  away  in  a  long  sustained  melancholy  wail, 
and  all  the  tribe  raising  their  heads  echoed, 
"  Hiou,"  until  the  volume  of  the  cry  gathered 
and  rose,  reverberating  away  into  the  forest 
where  it  lost  itself  and  died. 

The  old  warrior  reseated  himself  and  thrust 
the  arrow  back  into  the  earth,  and  again  un- 
broken silence  reigned.  Athore  watched  the 
blood  trickle  from  his  wound  with  the  calm 
unconcern  of  the  Indian  who  scorns  to  show 
pain. 

Again  the  old  man  rose  and  drew  the  arrow 
from  the  ground,  again  he  smote  the  boy  and 
sent  forth  his  wail  and  heard  it  echoed  by 
those  hundreds  of  throats.  This  time,  when 
the  youth  was  pierced  he  fell  to  the  earth  as 
one  dead  and  lay  stiff  and  stark. 

The  women  came  and  lifted  his  stiff  form 
and  bore  him  aside,  where  they  began  to  wail 
over  him  in  good  earnest.  While  this  was 
going  forward,  the  chief  and  warriors  remained 
seated,  staring  before  them,  uttering  no  word, 
nor  seeming  to  concern  themselves  in  the  least. 

The  women  and  a  few  of  the  warriors  who 


156  The  Sword  of  Justice 

had  joined  them  continued  to  wail  over  the 
wounded  man  and  strive  to  revive  him.  Some 
of  them  warmed  a  kind  of  moss  and  rubbed 
it  on  the  scratches,  which  had  already  ceased 
bleeding.  After  a  time  Athore  revived,  sat 
up,  and  seemed  in  fact  as  well  as  ever.1 

But  before  this  happened  Satouriona  had  for- 
saken the  square  and  gone  to  his  lodge  where 
he  sat  with  his  head  buried  between  his  knees, 
bemoaning  himself  as  a  patriarch  of  old.  "  My 
white  son,  my  white  son.  He  will  come  no 
more  to  the  lodges  of  my  people,  and  my  heart 
is  bereft." 

1  Whenever  a  war  party  returned  without  a  scalp,  the 
dearest  child  of  the  chief  had  to  be  struck  in  this  way,  in 
order  to  renew  and  impress  more  deeply  on  their  minds  the 
injuries  received  from  their  enemies  and  to  animate  them 
more  and  more  to  vengeance. 


The  Sword  of  Justice  157 


CHAPTER  XIII 

IN  the  dense  blackness  of  his  prison  cell,  Pierre 
sat  on  his  moss  bed  gripping  his  knees  tightly, 
in  a  fruitless  effort  to  curb  his  keen  impatience, 
and  still  the  irregular  beating  of  his  heart 
which  seemed  now  and  again  to  fairly  leap 
into  his  throat  and  threatened  to  stop  his 
breathing. 

The  minutes  were  like  days,  the  hours  dragged 
themselves  into  an  eternity  in  which  he  seemed 
to  himself  to  grow  old,  and  become  more  fit  for 
the  grave  than  the  active  struggle  for  life  and 
freedom  which  lay  so  immediately  before  him. 

To-night  he  was  to  make  his  dash  for  liberty. 
He  sat  now,  awaiting  the  hour  for  action,  going 
over  again  and  again,  minutely,  his  carefully 
laid  plans,  his  clearly  defined  injunctions  to 
Eugenie :  then  with  a  leap  his  imagination 
would  carry  him  forward  into  action,  until  his 
body  grew  almost  as  weary  from  nervous  ten- 
sion as  if  he  had,  indeed,  passed  through  the 
exertions  which  he  so  vividly  pictured. 

Thus  far,  Eugenie  had  shown  herself  a  most 
able  assistant.  At  his  direction  she  had  found, 
gathered,  and  dried  the  weed  which,  mixed  in 


158  The  Sword  of  Justice 

Manuel's  tobacco,  would  insure  to  him  for  this 
night  a  heavy  drugged  sleep.  How  cleverly 
she  had  planned,  with  her  little  gift  of  a  leather 
pouch  of  her  own  making,  to  mix  the  weed 
with  the  tobacco,  at  the  same  time  cajoling 
Manuel  into  good  humor !  If  she  but  remem- 
bered the  bed  cords  —  both  of  them  —  and  if 
she  could  indeed  bind  them  firmly  together  as 
she  confessed;  and  the  knots,  would  she  fail 
to  tie  them  as  he  directed?  Suppose,  after  all, 
the  rope  proved  not  stout  enough  to  bear  their 
combined  weight.  The  cold  sweat  started  out 
on  him  at  the  mere  thought.  Thank  God !  the 
Spaniards  still  believed  him  to  be  unable  to 
walk,  and  this  with  his  six  weeks  of  passive 
good  behavior  had  lulled  them  to  relax  their 
vigilance,  so  that  only  one  guard  slept  in  the 
room  without.  To-night  it  was  Manuel  with 
his  new  gift  well  filled  with  drugged  tobacco. 
The  night  was  moonless,  and  from  the  fitful 
patter  of  drops  on  the  thatch  he  guessed  it  to 
be  overcast  and  stormy.  The  tide  would  be 
out  before  midnight.  Everything  was  as  it 
should  be,  if  only  he,  Pierre,  did  not  die  of  old 
age  before  the  long-waited-for  moment  arrived. 
A  rasping  snort  startled  his  meditations  and 
quickened  all  his  faculties  to  painful  alertness. 
Could  this  be  the  hour;  was  this  Eugenie 
coming;  but  why  that  curious  noise?  It 
sounded  again  and  again,  louder  now  and  more 
prolonged.  He  sent  up  a  quick  thanksgiving 


The  Sword  of  Justice  159 

to  heaven.  There  was  no  mistaking,  it  was 
Manuel's  snore,  and  it  testified  to  the  efficacy 
of  Eugenie's  work.  Pierre  crept  to  the  door, 
his  moccasined  feet  making  no  noise  as  he 
moved.  His  ear  against  the  rough  timbers,  he 
listened  with  gladness  to  the  ever-increasing 
volume,  rasping  and  roaring  from  the  room 
beyond.  A  sudden  ugly  thought  struck  him. 
Suppose  Manuel  had  smoked  more  heavily 
than  usual  to-night  —  then  —  but  herewith  an 
effort,  he  persistently  put  the  rest  of  the  thought 
from  him.  He  was  facing  too  many  realities, 
to  have  need  of  conjuring  up  possibilities  for 
which  there  was  no  help. 

He  went  back  to  his  bed  again  and  took  up 
the  unbroken  weariness  of  waiting  another 
hour.  It  seemed  ages  to  him  since  he  last 
heard  the  sound  of  a  banging  door  or  the 
voices  of  soldiers  on  the  parade.  The  sen- 
tries on  the  rampart  had  been  changed;  he 
had  heard  the  relief  tramp  by  so  long  ago  —  it 
was  in  fact  not  more  than  half  an  hour.  The 
wind  was  dashing  little  gusty  showers  of  patter- 
ing drops  on  the  roof,  stirring  the  dried  thatch 
like  the  crawling  of  myriad  living  things.  O 
God!  if  a  heavy  storm  should  be  rising  —  what 
then  — 

By  this  time  he  had  reached  a  condition  in 
which  he  felt  that  his  overstrained  nerves  could 
bear  no  more,  that  if  he  did  not  soon  hear  that 
waited-for  sound,  he  would  raise  his  voice  in 


1 60  The  Sword  of  Justice 

a  yell  of  madness  which  would  waken  every 
sleeper  within  the  Fort,  even  deeply  drugged 
Manuel. 

When  this  mood  passed,  as  it  did  after  a 
time,  it  left  him  feeling  weak  but  less  impatient : 
nor  did  his  restlessness  have  time  to  gather 
again,  for  he  presently  heard  a  soft  little  noise, 
so  slight  as  to  be  only  perceptible  to  alert  fac- 
ulties, then  the  grating  of  the  key  in  its  turning, 
followed  by  a  screak  which  bespoke  a  stealthily 
opened  door.  Pierre  was  on  his  feet  and  across 
the  cell  in  an  instant.  He  heard  the  girl  softly 
breathe  "  Pierre,"  and  answered  by  his  out- 
stretched hand,  which  in  the  darkness  came  in 
contact  with  her  silky  hair.  "  The  rope," 
he  whispered  eagerly,  and  soon  their  groping 
hands  had  met  and  transferred  the  burden 
which  she  bore  into  his  keeping. 

Slipping  his  hand  hastily  over  the  coil  he 
realized,  with  a  throb  of  satisfaction,  that  it 
was  heavier  than  she  had  led  him  to  suppose, 
and  that  she  had  obeyed  him  faithfully  as 
to  its  knotting. 

Noiselessly  they  made  their  way  past  snoring 
Manuel,  and  out  of  the  door. 

Pierre's  lungs  expanded  with  deep  satisfac- 
tion in  that  first  draught  of  free  air  which  he 
had  drawn  for  six  weeks.  A  light  shower  of 
drops  kissed  his  face ;  he  threw  back  his  head 
in  joy  at  their  damp,  familiar  touch. 

Hands  clasped,  hearts  full  of  fear,  they  crept 


The  Sword  of  Justice  161 

across  the  parade  trusting  to  the  blackness  to 
cover  them.  Unfortunately,  Olotoraca's  war 
party  had  had  the  effect  of  alarming  the  peace- 
ful security  of  the  Spaniards,  causing  them  to 
keep  a  more  faithful  watch  on  the  rampart 
than  they  had  done  for  some  time  past. 
Knowing  this,  Pierre  had  realized  the  hopeless- 
ness of  escape  from  any  point  except  that  of 
the  north,  or  river  side.  This  necessitated  for 
them,  not  only  a  sheer  drop  of  about  thirty  feet 
from  the  top  of  the  palisade  to  the  narrow 
beach  beside  the  river,  but  the  still  further 
danger  of  climbing  the  palisade  directly  in  the 
rear  of  the  quarters  which  ran  in  one  contin- 
uous building  along  the  north  side  of  the 
triangle. 

Stepping  softly,  scarcely  daring  to  breathe, 
they  crossed  the  parade,  skirted  the  comman- 
dant's house,  and,  passing  behind  the  barracks, 
reached  their  destination  unchallenged.  With 
a  silent  prayer  to  heaven  to  send  heavy  slumber 
on  all  within  the  walls  of  San  Mateo,  Pierre 
set  quickly  about  his  task,  the  first  part  of 
which  was  to  get  his  comrade  safely  on  top 
of  the  palisade.  Fortunately,  this  not  being 
very  high,  it  was  accomplished  at  last  with 
much  assistance  from  Pierre,  and  a  good  deal 
of  grim  determination  on  the  part  of  Eugenie. 
He  also  had  gained  the  top,  and  was  beginning 
the  critical  task  of  unwinding  and  making  fast 
his  rope,  when,  clattering  merrily  against  each 
ii 


1 62  The  Sword  of  Justice 

other  as  they  went,  tumbled  the  girl's  wooden 
sabots,  which  she  had  fastened  on  a  string 
and  thrown  across  her  neck,  the  better  to 
carry  them. 

"  My  sabots,"  exclaimed  Eugenie,  even  in 
her  fright  realizing  the  seriousness  of  her  loss. 

"  Hush-sh,"  breathed  Pierre,  his  heart  stand- 
ing still  as  that,  to  him,  deafening  sound  smote 
the  silence.  Scarcely  daring  to  move  lest  some 
sleeper  had  been  startled  to  wakefulness,  he 
waited  breathlessly,  expecting  each  minute  that 
a  hue  and  cry  would  be  raised  and  their  depar- 
ture discovered.  When  nothing  further  occurred, 
he  gathered  courage  and  went  hurriedly  on 
with  his  work.  He  uncoiled  the  rope,  and 
making  a  slip  knot  dropped  it  over  one  of  the 
stout  timbers,  testing  its  firmness  with  a  strong 
jerk. 

He  comforted  himself  with  the  thought  that 
a  thirty-foot  fall  on  a  soft  muddy  bank,  did  not 
mean  death  or  indeed  much  beyond  a  heavy 
jar  in  case  the  rope  gave  way. 

Leaning  toward  the  girl  in  the  darkness  he 
touched  her  face  and  drew  it  to  him.  "  Eugenie," 
he  whispered,  "are  you  ready?" 

He  heard  her  softly  breathed  'yes/  and 
realized  that  she  was  trembling  at  the  thought 
of  what  lay  before  her,  but  she  made  no  motion 
to  draw  back,  and  he  experienced  a  sense  of 
relief  in  this.  Edging  himself  carefully  about, 
he  succeeded  in  getting  his  back  toward  her. 


The  Sword  of  Justice  163 

"  Put  your  arms  about  my  body,  clasp  them 
tight,  and  hold  on  for  your  life,"  he  commanded 
in  a  whisper. 

He  felt  her  obey  him.  Then,  gripping  the 
rope,  he  slipped  from  his  sitting  position  and 
swung  out.  He  heard  the  complaining  '  screak ' 
which  the  rope  gave  at  the  moment  of  receiving 
their  combined  weight,  but  he  had  no  time  now 
for  fears  as  to  its  stoutness.  Every  energy  of 
mind  and  body  was  concentrated  on  keeping 
a  firm  hold  with  the  one  hand,  while  the  other 
sought  and  gripped  the  next  knot.  His  great- 
est fear  was  for  Eugenie,  that  her  arms  might 
prove  too  weak  to  bear  her  suspended  body  for 
the  necessary  length  of  time. 

Down  they  dropped,  hand  under  hand,  the 
girl's  arms  straining  tighter  with  each  fall,  her 
fears  ever  increasing  and  the  earth  seeming  to 
recede.  At  length  his  groping  hand  found 
nothing  to  catch.  He  slipped  it  close  to  the 
knot  which  he  was  holding  and  slid  it  swiftly 
down.  They  were  at  the  rope's  end,  and  still 
his  reaching  feet  could  not  feel  ground  beneath 
him.  How  far  was  it?  How  great  the  drop 
which  they  must  take  ?  If  it  were  one  foot  or  a 
hundred  it  must  be  taken,  for  his  aching  arms 
were  no  longer  able  to  bear  the  burden  imposed 
upon  them. 

"  Eugenie,"  he  said,  "  we  have  reached  the 
rope's  end,  but  not  the  earth.  It  cannot  be  far 
distant,  and  you  must  drop.  Try  to  jump  a 


1 64  The  Sword  of  Justice 

little  clear  of  me  so  that  I  may  not  cause  you 
hurt.  Ready  now  at  once."  And  again  the 
girl  obeyed  promptly  and  unquestioningly. 

The  fall  was  not  over  two  yards  at  greatest, 
and  Pierre  lit  squarely  on  his  feet,  with  no  other 
discomfort  than  a  sharp  twinge  in  his  newly 
healed  wound,  caused  by  the  sudden  jar. 
Eug6nie,  in  her  effort  to  jump  free  from  him, 
had  overbalanced  herself  and  tumbled  in  a  heap 
from  which  she  was  slowly  extricating  herself, 
uncertain  yet  if  she  were  unhurt  or  no.  Her 
silence  frightened  Pierre  who  called  her  softly, 
and  began  to  grope  for  her  with  outstretched 
hands.  She  heard  the  note  of  fear  in  his  voice 
and  answered  quickly,  scrambling  from  her 
muddy  seat,  her  skirts  clinging  damp  and 
uncomfortably  about  her.  They  met  in  the 
darkness,  and  for  a  brief  instant  were  close 
clasped  in  each  other's  arms,  both  hearts  send- 
ing up  a  silent  thanksgiving  for  the  first  suc- 
cessful step  in  their  undertaking. 

Realizing  in  an  instant  how  near  to  danger 
they  still  lingered,  they  hastily  turned  their 
faces  down  the  river,  and  hand  in  hand  set  out 
to  find  the  spot  where  Pierre's  canoe  lay  con- 
cealed, some  two  miles  below,  in  a  little  bayou ; 
the  dense  growth  of  water  weeds  giving  it  perfect 
hiding.  He  remembered  thankfully,  as  they 
made  their  way,  not  without  discomfort,  over 
the  rough  shells  which  strewed  the  water's  edge, 


The  Sword  of  Justice  165 

that  before  dawn  the  rising  tide  would  have 
swept  out  all  traces  of  their  footsteps. 

They  had  gone  almost  a  mile  when  Eugenie's 
hand  began  to  drag  in  his  own,  and  he  felt  the 
lagging  of  her  weary  little  body.  He  dared 
not  give  way  to  this,  though  his  heart  smote 
him  as  he  hurried  her  along;  time  meant  every- 
thing to  them  now. 

After  a  little  the  girl  stopped  and  in  a  voice 
that  she  vainly  tried  to  keep  from  tears,  ex- 
claimed, "  Let  me  rest  but  a  little,  Pierre ;  the 
shells  hurt  me  cruelly." 

The  boy  stood  still,  a  cry  of  pity  breaking 
from  him.  He  remembered  suddenly  that  she 
had  no  protection  for  her  feet  save  the  worn, 
torn  little  cloth  stockings.  "  Poor  little  one," 
he  murmured,  remorsefully,  "I  was  forgetting 
the  lost  sabots ;  I  am  but  a  heartless  savage." 

Even  as  he  spoke  he  was  working  and  tugging 
with  all  his  might  at  the  buckskin  shirt  which 
he  wore,  and  from  it  he  succeeded,  after  a  bit, 
in  tearing  two  strips  of  skin.  Slipping  off  his 
own  moccasins,  either  of  which  was  large  enough 
to  accommodate  two  of  her  little  feet,  he  kneeled 
before  her  and  put  them  on,  his  heart  aching, 
as  he  touched  the  ragged  stockings  to  think 
how  much  she  had  suffered  in  this  past  mile. 
With  the  leather  thongs  he  made  shift  to  bind 
them  about  her  insteps.  This  would  give  her 
a  little  protection.  Then,  almost  grudging  the 
time  necessary  for  this  act  of  humanity,  he 


1 66  The  Sword  of  Justice 

caught  her  hand  once  more  and  they  pressed 
on  in  the  deepening  darkness. 

The  first  little  glimmer  of  light  was  beginning 
to  make  its  way  on  the  dense  blackness,  when 
they  at  last  reached  the  bayou  where  Pierre 
had  hidden  his  canoe. 

All  their  hopes  depended  now  upon  its  hav- 
ing been  left  unmolested,  and  the  boy's  heart 
was  beating  excitedly,  as  bidding  his  companion 
wait  his  return,  he  plunged  into  the  water  and 
swam  out  with  long  graceful  strokes  toward  the 
spot  on  the  other  side  where  in  a  thick  growth 
of  weeds  the  canoe  ought  to  be.  Six  weeks  in 
this  land  of  luxuriant  growth  had  so  changed 
the  aspect  of  the  spot,  that  he  had  a  long 
search,  and  was  beginning  to  lose  heart  before 
he  discovered  the  friendly  prow  deep  under  the 
great  leaves.  Even  then  he  was  obliged,  before 
he  could  claim  his  own,  to  summarily  dispossess 
a  water-rat  that  set  up  housekeeping  in  it. 

Swimming  and  pushing  the  canoe  ahead 
of  him,  he  made  his  way  swiftly  to  where 
Eugenie  was  standing,  eagerly  expectant. 
Having  beached  his  bark  almost  at  her  feet, 
he  drew  himself  from  the  water  and  shook  the 
drops  from  his  clothes  as  if  he  was  some  great 
water  animal.  He  lifted  and  seated  her  in  the 
prow,  and  took  his  position.  In  an  instant  the 
canoe  shot  out  into  the  water,  straight  as  an 
arrow  from  an  Indian  bow,  and  turned  toward 
the  mouth  of  the  little  bayou.  . 


The  Sword  of  Justice  167 

Shortly  they  were  in  the  St.  John's,  making 
their  way  more  slowly  now,  for  they  were  go- 
ing against  the  incoming  tide.  Pierre  was  ex- 
erting all  his  strength,  his  stroke  was  strong 
and  full,  and  the  muscles  played  back  and  forth 
in  his  arms  like  steel  withes. 

The  early  morning  sun,  at  its  rising,  turned 
the  drops  from  his  fast  dipping  blade  into 
glittering  jewels,  and  the  soft  kiss,  kiss,  of  the 
lapping  water  against  the  canoe  side,  made  a 
lulling  song  for  the  tired  girl,  who,  slipped 
down  in  the  bottom  of  the  boat,  lay  curled  up, 
sleeping  the  sleep  of  utter  exhaustion. 

At  San  Mateo  a  loosely  flapping  rope  and  a 
pair  of  tiny,  worn  sabots  at  the  foot  of  the  pali- 
sade told  their  tale  of  the  escape  to  the  excited 
inhabitants,  who  were  gathered  in  knots  discuss- 
ing it. 


1 68  The  Sword  of  Justice 


CHAPTER  XIV 

THE  noon  sun  glaring  hotly  down  on  the  river, 
found  Pierre  still  paddling  with  a  swift  steadi- 
ness, which  told  how  he  valued  each  passing 
minute.  They  had  turned  from  the  river  into 
the  inlet,  keeping  well  in  shore  for  the  little 
shade  which  the  overhanging  trees  afforded.  It 
was  flood-tide,  and  he  no  longer  had  its  incom- 
ing force  to  resist  him ;  despite  this,  he  was 
showing  fatigue.  He  was  sweating  at  every 
pore  and  the  buckskin  shirt  seemed  an  unbear- 
able burden. 

Eugenie  was  awake  at  last.  She  had  slept 
long  and  restfully  in  spite  of  her  cramped  posi- 
tion. She  opened  her  sleepy  eyes  at  length  to 
find  Pierre  gazing  at  her  with  a  look  of  infinite 
tenderness,  which  gave  his  face  a  deeper  manli- 
ness. 

He  was  taking  his  new  responsibility  with  a 
seriousness  hardly  to  be  expected  in  one  so 
young.  Already  he  faced  the  future  with  many 
misgivings  as  to  how  the  young  girl  would  be 
able  to  bear  the  savage  existence  into  which  he 
was  bearing  her. 

She  on  the  other  hand,  was  tormented  with 
no  such  doubts,  and  now  that  the  perils  of  the 


The  Sword  of  Justice  169 

night  were  safely  passed,  her  buoyant  spirit 
leaped  up  as  a  child's,  and  she  was  inclined  to 
regard  the  whole  adventure  as  the  beginning  of 
a  long  and  delightful  picnic.  And  so  after 
unclosing  her  eyes  and  basking  contentedly  for 
a  moment  in  the  love  shining  in  Pierre's  gaze, 
she  closed  them  again,  accepting  the  love  merely 
as  a  part  of  the  general  good  of  sunshine,  free- 
dom, and  fresh  air. 

Nature  had  satisfied  herself,  however,  and 
sleep  refused  to  come  again;  which  being  so, 
the  girl  soon  uncoiled  herself  from  her  resting- 
place  and  sat  up,  feeling  as  she  moved,  strangely 
stiff  and  uncomfortable.  She  dipped  her  hands 
into  the  cool  water  and  dashed  it  into  her  face, 
and  having  dried  hands  and  face  on  her  apron 
announced  that  she  was  hungry. 

Pierre  shook  his  head  with  decision.  "  The  fox 
must  gnaw  for  a  time  longer,"  he  said ;  "  I  dare 
not  pause  now  for  food." 

At  this,  Eugenie,  with  a  little  gurgle  of  tri- 
umphant laughter  produced  from  a  capacious 
pocket  part  of  a  loaf  of  black  bread,  which  she 
held  aloft  before  him,  enjoying  his  look  of 
surprise. 

"  All  for  me,"  she  announced,  tapping  herself 
lightly  on  the  breast;  "  none  for  you." 

Entering  into  her  childish  play  he  made  a 
great  pretence  of  disappointment,  and  called  her 
"  Petite  cochon,"  and  other  names  made  familiar 
from  use  in  their  childish  disputes. 


1 70  The  Sword  of  Justice 

This  brought  a  swift  change,  for  she  thought 
that  he  had  indeed  taken  her  seriously.  Hold- 
ing the  bread  out  to  him  she  cried  "  Nay,  Pierre, 
I  would  not  touch  a  crumb  of  it.  I  brought  it 
all  for  you,"  and  her  generous  little  heart  leaped 
into  her  shining  eyes  and  gave  ample  confirma- 
tion of  the  truth  of  her  assertion. 

"  Why,  little  heart,  I  only  jested.  I  would 
not  take  a  crumb  of  it  for  the  universe,"  he  pro- 
tested, touched  by  the  look  upon  her  face. 

"Then  I  will  cast  it  into  the  water,"  she 
threatened,  even  holding  it  aloft  for  the  fling, 
when  his  sudden  sharp  command  stayed  her. 

"  Eugenie,  you  must  not,  you  do  not  know 
what  you  do.  Child,"  he  continued  more 
gently,  seeing  the  sudden  look  of  fright  which 
flashed  into  her  face  at  the  sharpness  of  his  tone, 
"  you  are  possibly  flinging  away  from  you  life 
itself." 

"Why?  Will  we  not  soon  be  with  the  In- 
dians and  will  they  not  give  us  food  ? "  she 
questioned  in  amazement. 

"  We  are  still  a  great  way  from  the  lodge  of 
Satouriona,  and  only  the  good  God  knows  what 
lies  between.  Keep  the  bread  jealously,  and 
thank  Providence  for  it." 

"  Nay,  then,  I  will  thank  myself,  since  it  is  I 
who  thought  to  bring  it.  'T  was  not  the  good 
God  who  stole  it  from  the  cupboard  of  that 
black  Spanish  woman,  whom  I  hate ;  't  was  I  my- 
self," returned  Eugenie  na'fvely,  and  Pierre 


The  Sword  of  Justice  171 

offering  no  objection  to  this  settlement  of  the 
question,  silence  fell  for  a  little  while  until 
Eugenie's  cheerful  spirit  bubbled  up  once  more 
in  happy  chatter  of  all  that  passed  around  her. 

But  after  a  time,  even  she,  who  was  so  little 
observant,  could  not  but  take  notice  of  the  fact 
that  Pierre  spoke  little  and  then  in  bated  under- 
tone, as  if  he  listened  to  catch  a  sound.  Oft- 
times  he  paused,  ostensibly  to  rest  for  a  mom- 
ent, but  his  head  was  slightly  bent  and  into  his 
eyes  would  creep  the  intent  look  of  one  who 
listens  for  distant  noises. 

"  To  what  do  you  hearken,  Pierre,"  she  asked 
at  length,  beginning  to  grow  vaguely  uneasy. 

He  started  quickly  at  her  question  and  hastily 
resumed  his  paddle.  "  It  is  but  an  Indian 
habit,"  he  answered  as  lightly  as  possible,  trying 
to  smile  away  her  growing  uneasiness. 

So  far,  the  thought  of  pursuit  had  not  seemed 
to  occur  to  her,  and  he  preferred  that  it  should 
not.  To  her  mind  the  danger  was  over  and 
nothing  remained  but  a  picnic  canoe  trip,  with 
a  long  tramp  at  the  end,  then  safety  and 
happiness  among  the  Indians. 

It  was  an  hour  or  more  before  her  mind  was 
disabused  of  this  idea,  and  through  all  that  hour 
Pierre  had  intermittently  kept  up  his  Indian 
trick  of  listening ;  at  length  in  one  of  the  pauses 
she  saw  a  sudden  fierce  light  leap  into  his  eye, 
and  the  line  of  his  lips  come  together  straightly, 
while  his  jaw  set  like  steel. 


172  The  Sword  of  Jiistice 

In  an  instant  the  canoe's  prow  was  turned  to 
the  bank  and  a  few  quick  strong  strokes  had 
beached  it  He  lifted  the  girl  out  before  she 
had  time  to  move  or  question.  When  she  gained 
her  feet  she  found  her  tongue  also.  "  What  is 
it,"  she  asked ;  "  why  do  we  stop  ?  " 

"  Go  up  the  bank  quickly ;  hide  in  the  bushes 
until  I  come ;  "  and  even  as  he  spoke,  he  lifted 
the  light  canoe  from  the  water  and  shouldered 
it. 

"But,  Pierre,  what  is  it?  I  heard  no  noise," 
she  was  beginning  to  expostulate  when  his 
quick  word  of  command,  uttered  now  in  a 
tone  there  was  no  denying,  started  her  feet 
obediently  if  reluctantly  after  him.  She  found 
a  clump  of  dense  undergrowth  then  and  seated 
herself  discontentedly  on  the  ground,  while 
Pierre  concealed  the  dripping  canoe  in  the 
bushes  and  tearing  off  a  small  branch  on  the 
nearby  tree,  ran  down  to  the  water's  edge 
again.  He  dipped  the  branch  in  until  it  was 
heavy  with  moisture  and  drew  it  over  the  soft 
earth,  obliterating  as  well  as  he  could  the 
tracks  of  their  feet;  then  he  threw  away  his 
bough  and  sought  the  spot  where  Eugenie  was 
hidden. 

At  last  he  told  her  why  he  was  there.  The 
wind  was  blowing  from  the  south  and  it  had 
borne  to  him  distinctly  the  sound  of  human 
voices.  She  had  not  heard  them,  for  her  ear 
lacked  the  delicacy  which  his  savage  life  had 


The  Sword  of  Justice  173 

engendered  in  him.  Nor  was  she  altogether 
willing  to  believe  him,  but  instead  thought 
that  he  had  taken  unnecessary  alarm,  an  idea 
which  grew  and  increased  as  the  minutes 
passed  bringing  no  sign  of  pursuers.  She 
was  just  about  to  utter  her  triumphant  little 
laugh,  and  begin  in  woman  fashion  to  tease 
him  for  his  fears  when  she  too  heard  a  sound, 
and  it  was  the  kiss,  kiss,  kiss,  of  a  paddle  in 
the  water.  In  an  instant  all  her  pretty  mock- 
ery had  fled  and  she  was  crouching,  white- 
faced  and  trembling,  gripping  Pierre's  hand 
for  comfort,  and  expecting  God  knows  what. 

Soon  she  heard  the  dip  of  another  paddle, 
and  a  third,  and  then  it  seemed  to  her  fright- 
ened ears  as  if  a  myriad  of  blades  dipped  and 
kissed  the  water.  Their  course  was  close  in- 
shore even  as  Pierre's  had  been,  and  soon  they 
swept  along,  so  near  that  a  few  words  in  Span- 
ish floated  to  his  ears.  Now  they  were  passing 
directly  in  front  of  them.  Pierre's  heart  stood 
still  with  fear;  would  they  notice  his  clumsy 
attempt  to  obliterate  the  trail.  No,  they  swept 
by  unheeding,  while  a  feeling  of  contempt  for 
their  woodcraft,  mingled  with  a  tide  of  relief 
which  flowed  over  the  young  Frenchman. 

"Why,  not  an  Indian  babe  in  the  village  of 
Satouriona  would  have  missed  that  mark  going 
so  near  it  as  did  these,"  he  thought. 

When  the  sound  of  the  receding  paddles  told 
Pierre  that  his  enemies  had  passed  by  a  little 


1 74  The  Sword  of  Justice 

distance,  he  ventured  to  raise  himself  and  peer 
cautiously  through  an  opening  in  the  bush. 
The  first  canoe  held  Perez  and  Philippe  de 
Lavalatte,  both  paddling;  the  two  others  con- 
tained four  Spanish  soldiers. 

The  lad's  heart  grew  heavy  at  sight  of  those 
two  in  the  foremost  canoe.  He  knew  of  Perez's 
infatuation  for  Eug6nie,  he  realized  why  Lava- 
latte was  of  the  party,  and  he  felt  that  the  com- 
bination boded  little  good,  since  it  insured  the 
search  being  something  more  than  a  mere  per- 
functory obedience  to  command. 

When  the  Spaniards  had  been  out  of  sight  for 
some  time,  Pierre  ventured  to  move  from  his 
hiding-place  and  set  about  finding  something 
on  which  to  stay  their  clamoring  appetites. 

By  this  time  Eugenie's  bounding  spirits  had 
come  back  to  their  wonted  cheerfulness.  "  Now 
we  are  safe,"  she  declared  joyously,  "  for  when 
they  do  not  find  us,  they  will  turn  back  to  the 
Fort  and  think  that  the  wild  beasts  have  de- 
voured us." 

Pierre  made  no  answer;  he  had  no  such 
happy  assurance.  Nor  indeed  would  Eugenie, 
had  it  been  given  her  to  overhear  a  conversa- 
tion which  took  place  between  the  young  Span- 
iard and  the  commandant  only  that  morning 
before  the  searching  party  started  out. 

"  And  if  I  bring  the  girl  again  to  the  Fort, 
Senor  commandant,  may  I  have  her  to  wife?" 
the  young  man  questioned,  standing  erect  be- 


The  Sword  of  Justice  175 

fore  his  superior  officer  with  a  look  on  his  face 
which  promised  ill  for  the  fugitives. 

The  older  officer  hesitated :  "  No,"  he  said 
at  length,  "  but  if  you  also  bring  the  man  you 
shall  have  the  wench." 

"  I  will  bring  him,"  answered  Perez  grimly, 
and,  saluting,  he  turned  away. 


1 76  The  Sword  of  Justice 


CHAPTER  XV 

THE  enemy  were  fairly  out  of  sight  before 
Pierre  deemed  it  safe  to  move.  He  announced 
to  his  companion  that  they  would  eat  and  re- 
fresh themselves  before  going  on.  At  this 
Eugenie  showed  distinct  signs  of  approval,  and 
again  produced  the  black  bread  over  which 
they  had  disputed  in  the  morning.  Dividing 
it  into  two  portions  she  tried  to  coax  Pierre 
to  share  it  with  her,  but  this  he  sternly  refused 
to  do.  Leaving  her  for  a  little,  he  presently 
returned  with  some  roots  and  a  few  early  ber- 
ries temptingly  arranged  on  a  cool  green  leaf. 
These  last  were  added  to  Eugenie's  meal  of 
black  bread,  while  Pierre  contentedly  gnawed 
the  roots,  being  well  used  to  such  fare  in  his 
forest  roaming. 

After  that  he  shouldered  his  canoe,  carried 
it  down  the  bank  and  having  launched  it  seated 
the  girl  once  more  and  resumed  his  paddling. 

There  were  at  that  time  on  the  coast  of 
Florida,  a  number  of  inlets,  two  of  which  had 
their  openings  not  far  above  the  mouth  of  the 
St.  John's  River.  These  joined  each  other,  and 
broke  into  the  river  about  two,  or  two  and  one 


The  Sword  of  Justice  177 

half  miles  above  its  mouth,  thus  forming  a  con- 
tinuous inland  passage  along  the  coast  almost 
to  the  very  village  of  Satouriona.  Not  quite 
half  the  distance  from  the  St  John's  to  this 
village,  the  waters  of  another  river,  probably 
the  Nassau,  emptied  into  the  inlet  in  two 
small  streams  which  flowed  on  either  side  of 
an  island  which  lay  at  its  mouth.  It  was  upon 
this  island  that  Pierre  had  landed  to  hide,  and 
a  more  fortunate  spot  he  could  scarcely  have 
chosen  for  himself,  as  it  was  in  some  sort  the 
meeting  of  the  ways. 

The  Spaniards  having  kept  the  straight  course 
up  the  inlet  it  remained  for  him  to  skirt  the 
island,  pass  into  the  Nassau  and  proceed  as  far 
as  the  river  kept  in  his  direction,  then  land  and 
make  his  way  on  foot  through  the  forest  to  the 
Indian  village. 

All  this  he  explained  to  the  girl,  who  readily 
assented,  as  she  would  have  done  to  any  plan 
which  he  proposed,  so  great  had  become  her 
faith  in  his  wisdom  and  ability. 

They  set  forward  again,  Pierre  paddling  with 
a  steady  dogged  determination  that  refused  to 
give  way  to  the  weariness  which  was  coming 
now  to  possess  his  whole  overstrained  body. 
The  six  weeks'  confinement  had  told  on  him 
greatly  and  he  chafed  against  the  restraint  which 
his  complaining  muscles  imposed  upon  him. 
Eugenie  too,  was  growing  weary  now  of  the 
monotony  of  the  trip ;  the  close  tangle  of  luxu- 


178  The  Sword  of  Justice 

riant  vegetation  growing  down  even  to  the 
water's  edge,  the  low  overhanging  branches 
bearded  in  the  sombre  gray  moss  which  kept  a 
ghostly  motion  in  the  breeze,  the  twilight  dim- 
ness of  this  aisle  of  green  through  which  they 
passed,  ceased  to  amuse  her  after  a  little,  more 
especially  as  Pierre  was  grave  and  taciturn,  and 
would  not  laugh  at  her  happy  chatter,  but  gave 
her  only  a  slow  absent  smile  from  time  to  time. 

Before  night  had  entirely  come  they  landed 
again,  and  Pierre  drew  the  canoe  from  the  water 
and  sought  an  open  spot  free  from  the  tangle  of 
vine  and  underbrush.  Here  under  the  shelter 
of  a  tree  he  deposited  the  boat. 

He  found  a  few  berries  to  help  out  Eugenie's 
poor  supper  and  contented  himself  again  with 
roots.  After  this  he  gathered  armfuls  of  Span- 
ish moss  and  filled  the  canoe  with  it.  Into  this 
springy  bed  he  bade  Eugenie  crawl  while  he 
covered  her  with  more  moss  to  keep  out  the 
night  chill. 

The  light  was  almost  entirely  gone  when  this 
was  accomplished.  "  You  will  not  go  far, 
Pierre  ?  "  the  girl  questioned  timidly,  seeing  him 
turn  away. 

"  No  dear,  I  shall  sit  here  against  this  tree 
and  watch  through  the  night.  Sleep  well  and 
have  no  fear." 

She  was  not  satisfied.  He  had  not  kissed 
her  good-night ;  indeed  through  all  the  day  he 
had  not  offered  her  one  fleeting  little  caress, 


The  Sword  of  Justice  1 79 

and  her  heart  grew  heavy  for  thinking  that  may- 
be she  was  a  burden  to  him  and  that  he  regretted 
her  coming. 

She  caught  his  hand  and  drew  him  back,  and 
down,  until  one  of  his  long  black  Indian  locks 
which  had  loosened  itself  brushed  her  cheek. 

"What  have  I  done,  Pierre,  —  do  you  not 
love  me  any  longer?  "  she  questioned  tearfully. 

He  gathered  the  warm  little  body  in  his  arms 
and  held  it  an  instant  against  his  beating  heart 
while  he  answered  "  As  my  very  life,  dear,"  in  a 
tone  so  convincing  as  to  bring  rest  to  her  vague 
suspicions.  Then  he  laid  her  back  in  her  bed 
and  drew  the  moss  well  up  over  her  in  snug 
comfort.  Kissing  her  softly  on  the  cheek  he 
turned  away.  Satisfied  and  happy,  she  snuggled 
down  in  her  warm  nest,  murmured  a  sleepy 
prayer  and  was  soon  oblivious  to  everything. 

Pierre  seated  nearby  with  his  back  against  a 
tree  a  heavy  piece  of  a  broken  branch  lying 
across  his  knee  —  the  only  available  weapon  — 
tried  to  hold  his  weary  senses  together  and  keep 
watchful.  This  was  not  so  difficult  at  first,  for 
many  thoughts  thronged  his  mind.  Most  of 
them  concerned  the  unconscious  girl  sleeping 
near,  for  he  was  facing  a  problem  with  regard  to 
her,  the  outcome  of  which  he  could  not  see. 

After  a  time,  however,  thoughts  of  the  future 
and  the  events  of  the  day  began  to  mix  them- 
selves in  strange  fantastic  confusion,  and  from 
the  hazy  land  where  nothing  seemed  distinct  or 


1 80  The  Sword  of  Justice 

important,  he  would  jerk  himself  periodically, 
dazed  and  miserable,  feeling  dimly  that  he  had 
lapsed  from  his  vigil.  After  a  time  this  ceased, 
and  his  weary  frame  slid  from  the  supporting 
tree  trunk  and  settled  on  the  ground  in  an  un- 
comfortable heap,  where  it  remained  motionless, 
locked  in  the  sleep  of  utter  weariness. 

He  aroused  himself  next  morning  to  find 
Eugenie's  teasing  face  bent  above  him,  her  eyes 
brimming  with  mischief,  a  long  feathery  bit  of 
grass  with  which  she  had  accomplished  his 
awakening  still  held  between  her  ringers. 

"Lazy  one,  to  sleep  until  the  sun  is  high," 
she  reproved  merrily.  "  Suppose  Perez  had 
found  and  run  away  with  me.  It  would  be  but 
your  deserts." 

Pierre  struggled  up  from  his  uncomfortable 
bed,  so  stiff  that  he  could  scarcely  move,  his 
face  blazing  with  a  red  flush  of  shame;  his 
absolutely  disconcerted  look  would  have  been 
funny  had  it  not  been  so  real. 

"  I  fear  I  must  have  lost  myself  for  a  little," 
he  muttered,  trying  awkwardly  to  get  to  his  feet. 

Eugenie,  mocking,  offered  him  her  assistance, 
and  the  merry  mischief  in  her  face  chased  his 
chagrin  happily  away.  He  set  about  hunting 
breakfast  as  quickly  as  possible,  for  he  felt  that 
already  too  much  precious  time  had  been 
wasted. 

Soon  the  canoe  was  launched  and  they  were 
on  their  way.  About  noon  they  reached  the 


The  Sword  of  Justice  1 8 1 

point  at  which  they  were  to  set  out  by  land,  and 
here  Pierre  sought  and  found  a  hiding-place  for 
his  boat  before  he  abandaned  it. 

For  the  first  time  he  noticed  with  some  mis- 
givings that  Eugenie's  gray  eyes  were  surrounded 
by  dark  shadowy  circles,  and  that  there  were 
two  little  gaunt  hollows  showing  in  the  perfect 
roundness  of  her  cheeks.  The  last  of  the 
precious  bread  had  disappeared  into  her  hungry 
little  stomach  the  night  before,  and  she  had 
made  but  a  poor  meal  on  the  roots  that  were 
all  he  had  been  able  to  offer  her  for  break- 
fast. She  made  no  complaint,  however,  and  set 
out  cheerily  trudging  by  his  side,  his  big  moc- 
casins still  bound  by  the  leather  thongs  over  her 
instep  to  keep  her  from  losing  this  last  poor 
protection  for  her  tender  feet. 

Through  all  the  afternoon  they  walked,  some- 
times in  the  dim  light  of  the  dense  pine  forest 
whose  ceaseless  sorrowful  murmur  sounded  like 
the  restless  sighing  of  the  unhappy  dead,  some- 
times in  open  marshy  spots  where  they  had  to 
step  warily  from  one  grass  hummock  to  another 
and  go  carefully  lest  they  find  no  solid  resting- 
place.  Oftenest,  though,  they  walked  through 
the  stiff  palmetto  scrub  which  cut  and  scratched 
them  cruelly  and  made  their  progress  of  neces- 
sity slow. 

They  stopped  to  rest  from  time  to  time,  for 
the  girl  was  not  able  to  keep  up  a  very  sus- 
tained effort,  and,  truth  to  tell,  Pierre  himself 


1 8  2  The  Sword  of  Justice 

was  not  sorry  for  these  stops,  for  he  found  that 
his  lately  healed  wound  caused  him  a  sense  of 
great  weakness  in  that  leg  and  sometimes  a 
sharp  twinge  of  pain. 

It  was  toward  evening  when  they  reached  a 
little  stream,  far  too  wide  to  leap,  but  whose 
pebbly  bottom  shone  clear  beneath.  Pierre 
lifted  the  girl  and  stepped  into  the  water.  It 
was  almost  to  his  middle,  and  Eugenie  was 
obliged  to  tuck  her  feet  up  well  if  she  would 
keep  them  dry.  Her  arms  were  clinging  about 
him,  her  whole  body  rested  against  him  with 
the  limp  abandon  of  a  child  in  its  mother's 
clasp.  Her  cheek  fitted  itself  into  the  hol- 
low against  his  neck,  and  he  felt  her  soft  breath 
on  his  face.  His  heart  began  to  beat  irregu- 
larly, he  felt  so  keenly  through  every  fibre  of 
his  being  the  dearness  of  the  yielding  burden 
which  he  carried ;  all  her  innocent  trust  in  him 
his  heart  understood,  though  his  mind  had 
never  put  it  into  words.  There  welled  up  in  him 
such  a  rush  of  tenderness,  that  he  longed  to 
turn  his  face  to  hers  and  put  a  never-ending 
kiss  upon  her  mouth. 

But  he  resolutely  kept  his  face  turned  from 
her,  and  splashed  sturdily  through  the  water, 
hurrying  a  little,  lest  temptations  proved  too 
strong  for  him. 

Yet  if  you  had  asked  him  why  he  did  not 
yield  to  this  natural  impulse,  he  would  have 
faced  you  with  honest,  innocent,  eyes,  unable 


The  Sword  of  Justice  183 

to  put  his  reasoning  into  words.  He  was  only 
a  young,  healthy,  clean-hearted  human  being, 
and  in  doing  as  he  did,  he  but  followed  a 
heaven-born  instinct  which  bade  him  for  some 
mysterious  reason  restrain  himself. 

When  he  set  Eugenie  upon  her  feet  on  the 
opposite  bank,  he  heaved  a  great  sigh  of  relief. 
Not  understanding  his  feelings  she  questioned, 
"Was  I  so  very  heavy,  Pierre?" 

For  answer  he  only  smiled,  and  shook  his 
head. 

It  was  late  at  night  before  they  reached  the 
Indian  village.  Pierre  hid  the  girl  and  went 
fonvard  to  reconnoitre  carefully  before  attempt- 
ing to  enter.  He  could  see  the  gleaming  light 
of  Satouriona's  lodge-fire  far  above  on  the 
hill,  and  he  wondered  at  its  late  burning.  All 
seemed  quiet,  however,  so  he  returned  for 
Eugenie. 

Standing  before  the  gate  of  the  palisade, 
Pierre  knocked  for  admittance. 

"Who  strikes  the  gate  of  the  village?"  ques- 
tioned the  keeper  from  within. 

To  which  Pierre  yielded  ready  answer  in  the 
Indian  tongue.  "  Chepane,  thy  brother,  open 
for  me." 

Quickly  the  gate  flew  back.  Even  the  stolid- 
ity of  the  Indian  character  was  not  proof  against 
surprise,  and  this  time  joy  mingled  with  it  on 
recognizing  Pierre. 

"  The  heart  of  our  Father  which  has  lain  in 


1 84  The  Sword  of  Justice 

the  dust  this  long  time  will  be  lifted  up  now," 
exclaimed  the  Indian  joyfully,  then,  as  the  faint 
light  from  the  fire  revealed  the  figure  of  Eugdnie, 
he  added,  "  And  my  brother  has  brought  with 
him  a  squaw.  It  is  well." 

Pierre  scarcely  paused  to  answer.  Leading 
Eugenie  by  the  hand,  he  passed  amongst  the 
darkened  lodges  and  sought  the  path  leading 
to  the  hill  of  the  chieftain.  When  they  had  set 
foot  on  its  narrow  way,  he  put  his  arm  about 
the  girl  who,  now  that  the  dangers  of  the  forest 
were  past,  seemed  to  be  shrinking  back  fear- 
fully before  the  entrance  of  the  homes  of  these 
savage  protectors. 

When  they  reached  the  top  of  the  path 
both  paused  involuntarily.  Before  them  lay 
the  lodge  of  Satouriona,  and  from  the  open- 
ing the  smoky  light  streamed  out  showing  dim 
figures  still  clustered  about  the  fire.  On  the 
quiet  of  the  night  sounded  their  harsh  excited 
gutturals.  Eugenie  looked  fearfully  toward  this 
rude  scene  and  drew  nearer  to  her  companion. 

Then  it  was  that  he  clasped  her  close  in  his 
arms,  feeling  her  at  last  so  utterly  his  own; 
then  it  was  that  he  bent  his  face  to  hers  and 
gave  her  a  kiss,  so  long  and  so  tender,  that  it 
-,vas  like  an  act  of  consecration. 


The  Sword  of  Justice  185 


CHAPTER  XVI 

I  SHALL  not  dwell  at  any  length  on  the  joy  of 
Satouriona  at  beholding  his  white  son  suddenly 
standing  in  the  light  of  his  lodge  fire.  Startled 
for  an  instant  from  their  usual  calm,  believing 
that  it  was  a  spirit  and  not  a  man  that  they 
beheld,  every  Indian  in  the  lodge  sprang  to  his 
feet  and  stood  transfixed  with  sudden  supersti- 
tious fright.  The  sound  of  Pierre's  voice,  the 
touch  of  his  hand,  brought  them  swift  reassur- 
ance, and  if  anything  else  had  been  needed  to 
satisfy  the  doubting  heart  of  the  old  chief,  the 
sight  of  Eugenie,  shrinking  in  fright  behind 
Pierre's  shoulder,  supplied  it.  A  fierce  light 
of  joy  leaped  suddenly  into  his  eyes;  with 
outstretched  forefinger  he  pointed  toward  the 
frightened  girl.  "  Now  I  know  that  the  medi- 
cine talk  of  Helmacarpa  is  good.  My  white 
con  hath  taken  a  squaw  from  the  lodges  of 
his  people.  Soon,  soon,  will  the  canoes  of  the 
great  white  chief  come  to  our  shores:  soon, 
soon,  will  they  give  us  vengeance  on  our  foes." 
He  stood  with  head  up  and  eyes  which  already 
seemed  to  gaze  on  the  scenes  of  blood  for 
which  he  thirsted,  nor  did  he  heed  the  more 


1 86  The  Sword  of  Justice 

demonstrative  welcome  accorded  the  wanderer 
by  the  younger  and  less  self-restrained  mem- 
bers of  the  lodge.  If,  however,  Satouriona's 
sense  of  dignity  did  not  permit  him  to  openly 
express  his  joy  at  sight  of  the  son  of  his  heart, 
his  eyes  were  not  under  such  good  training, 
and  would  have  betrayed  to  any  observer  by 
their  brightness,  their  look  almost  of  tender- 
ness as  they  rested  on  Pierre,  the  happiness 
which  the  sight  of  him  brought  to  the  old 
heart. 

Nor  is  it  necessary  that  I  picture  to  you 
the  wild  excitement  and  curiosity  among  the 
squaws,  caused  by  the  appearance  of  Eugenie, 
when  they  were  unceremoniously  aroused  from 
their  sleep  to  admit  her  into  their  midst. 

The  poor  child,  frightened  at  all  these  dark 
and,  to  her,  sinister  faces,  clung  to  Pierre's  hand, 
refusing  to  enter  the  hut,  until  after  much 
argument  and  persuasion,  together  with  the 
repeated  assurance  of  the  entire  friendliness 
of  the  Indians.  After  she  was  left  alone,  sur- 
rounded by  many  pairs  of  staring  curious  eyes, 
hands  that  reached  out  and  felt  her  clothes, 
her  person,  and  her  few  poor  ornaments,  —  the 
while  their  tongues  kept  up  a  babble  of  cease- 
less chatter  —  the  strain  of  the  situation  was 
fast  growing  too  much  for  overtired  nerves. 

She  was  about  to  make  a  dash  for  freedom 
and  Pierre,  when  the  chief  squaw  of  Satouriona, 
clapping  her  hands  peremptorily,  ordered  them 


The  Sword  of  Justice  187 

to  their  beds.  With  those  who  lingered  and 
seemed  loth  to  obey,  she  enforced  her  au- 
thority by  many  heavy-handed  blows  which 
they  dodged  when  they  could  and  accepted 
without  protest  when  they  could  not.  When 
the  brown  crew  had  been  successfully  routed, 
the  squaw  with  the  authority  of  a  mistress, 
pointed  to  a  fresh  pile  of  moss  and  a  deer-skin 
robe,  where  the  girl  made  haste  to  creep  lest 
she,  too,  come  in  for  a  share  of  punishment. 

All  night  she  lay  sleepless  and  alert,  starting 
at  every  sound,  fearful  she  scarcely  knew  of 
what.  Perhaps  these  savage  women  resented 
her  presence  in  the  lodge.  If  one  of  them 
should  rise  in  the  night  and  slay  her,  how 
could  she  protect  herself.  It  was  cruel  of 
Pierre  to  have  deserted  her  thus.  So  ran 
her  thoughts,  conjuring  up  horrors  and  fear- 
ful shapes  even  after  the  heavy  breathing  and 
chorus  of  snores  told  her  that  she  alone  waked. 
Still  she  lay  trembling  and  miserable. 

When  Pierre,  having  left  her,  returned  to  the 
great  lodge,  he  was  not  slow  in  discovering  the 
reason  of  their  late  waking  and  the  unusual 
excitement.  From  the  story  of  Satouriona  and 
Olotoraca,  he  was  able  to  come  at  a  pretty  fair 
idea  of  what  had  befallen  his  pursuers  since  last 
he  saw  them  making  their  rapid  way  up  the 
inlet  all  unconscious  of  his  watchful  eyes. 

They  had  evidently  kept  a  straight  course 
until  just  before  reaching  the  Indian  village, 


1 88  The  Sword  of  Justice 

when,  disappointed  in  their  hopes  of  overtak- 
ing the  fugitives,  they  had  landed,  and  skulked 
about  in  the  woods  trying  to  ascertain  if  pos- 
sible, whether  Pierre  and  the  girl  were  safe 
within  the  village,  or  if  there  was  still  hope 
of  intercepting  them  somewhere  in  the  woods. 
They  were  not  in  a  position,  on  account  of 
their  limited  numbers  to  offer  hostilities,  nor 
could  they  in  the  nature  of  things  go  peace- 
ably into  the  village  and  demand  Pierre,  know- 
ing as  they  did  the  attitude  of  the  Indians 
towards  them  because  of  his  capture  and 
detention. 

It  was  while  they  lurked  about  trying  to 
obtain  information,  that  two  of  the  braves 
spied  them  and  raised  the  alarm  which  shortly 
brought  the  fighting  portion  of  the  village  upon 
them  in  hot  pursuit.  The  Spaniards  fled,  and 
took  to  their  canoes,  followed  on  shore  by  the 
Indians  who  hid  behind  trees  and  underbrush 
and  sent  a  ceaseless  flight  of  arrows  after  the 
swiftly  retreating  canoes.  The  Spanish  had 
returned  the  fire,  but  to  no  purpose  since  the 
Indians  kept  to  shelter. 

After  having  followed  them  as  far  as  they 
deemed  it  wise,  fearing  that  these  few  might 
be  only  decoys  to  draw  them  away  from  the 
village  while  the  main  body  fell  upon  it,  the 
braves  turned  back  and  left  the  Spaniards  to 
go  their  way.  They  carried  back  with  them 
the  satisfaction  of  knowing  that  two  of  their 


The  Sword  of  Justice  189 

enemies  were  lying  in  the  canoes  helpless  and 
possibly  dead. 

That  night  Pierre  slept  the  sound  dreamless 
sleep  of  one  who  has  suddenly  laid  down  the 
burden  of  a  heavy  responsibility. 

The  next  morning  early,  he  sought  the  lodge 
of  the  squaws  to  find  Eugenie  surrounded  by 
the  women,  who  had  loosened  her  long,  silky 
hair  and  were  passing  their  hands  over  it,  ex- 
claiming at  its  fineness,  —  handling  her,  in  fact, 
as  a  child  does  a  doll,  with  just  such  free- 
dom from  all  restraint.  "  Pvchi  Hvtki,1  Pvchi 
Hvtki,"  they  kept  exclaiming  to  each  other. 
Suddenly,  seeing  Pierre  standing  in  the  lodge 
opening,  they  began  to  laugh  in  shrill  chorus, 
clapping  their  hands,  then  pointing  to  the  girl, 
while  they  repeated  with  renewed  vigor,  "  Pvchi 
Hvtki,  Pvchi  Hvtki." 

Pierre  laughed,  nodding  an  affirmative,  and 
Eugenie,  becoming  aware  for  the  first  time  of 
his  nearness,  broke  away  from  the  detaining 
hands  about  her  and  fled  precipitately  to  his 
arms,  which  opened  to  receive  her.  She  buried 
her  face  against  his  breast  and  he  could  feel  her 
slight  form  shaking  with  frightened  sobs. 

He  held  her  close,  his  hand  also  beginning  to 
stray  amongst  the  loosened  silk  of  her  hair,  while 
he  murmured  soothingly: 

"  Nay,  sweetheart,  surely  you  are  not  fright- 
ened. They  would  do  you  no  harm,  and  only 
1  V  pronounced  like  short  u. 


1 90  The  Sword  of  Justice 

admire  your  beauty.  They  have  already  bestowed 
on  you  a  new  name,  '  Pvchi  Hvtki,'  '  White 
Pigeon.'  'Tis  a  dear  little  name  and  suits  you 
well."  Saying  which  he  raised  the  face  hidden 
against  his  breast  and  kissed  it  tenderly. 

"  Ugh !  "  Pierre  started  at  the  sound  of  the 
disapproving  guttural  close  behind  him.  He 
turned  in  time  to  catch  the  disgusted  look  in 
the  steady  glance  which  Satouriona  bent  on 
them. 

"  Ugh,"  grunted  the  old  chief  again ;  then  in 
a  tone  of  disapproval,  "  Why  does  my  white 
son  rub  his  face  against  the  face  of  his  squaw?  " 

Eug6nie,  though  not  understanding  his  words, 
comprehended  dimly  that  something  was  amiss 
and  stood  beside  Pierre  abashed  and  unhappy. 
As  for  the  young  Frenchman,  he  was  divided 
between  amusement  and  vexation  at  his  utter 
inability  to  convey  even  dimly  to  the  mind  of 
the  savage  the  meaning  of  the  little  act  which 
he  questioned. 

Seeing  that  no  answer  to  his  inquiry  was  forth- 
coming the  old  warrior  continued :  "  Listen  to 
thy  father.  Let  not  the  breath  of  thy  squaw 
be  often  breathed  upon  thee,  unless  thou  wouldst 
have  thy  heart  to  be  soft  even  as  a  squaw's 
heart,  and  thou  come  after  a  time  to  be  but 
a  squaw  man." 


The  Sword  of  Justice  191 


CHAPTER  XVII 

AFTER  the  first  strangeness  had  worn  away, 
Eugenie  began  quickly  to  adjust  herself  to 
her  surroundings,  and  little  by  little  to  over- 
come her  fear  of  the  Indians.  She  soon  real- 
ized that  they  felt  towards  her  only  kindness. 
Then  she  slowly  awakened  to  a  new  interest 
in  things  about  her,  and  made  little  attempts 
to  conquer  this  strange  harsh  speech  which 
smote  her  ears  constantly  and  to  whose  mean- 
ing she  was  entirely  deaf.  She  managed  to 
establish  a  very  imperfect  mode  of  communi- 
cation by  means  of  signs  and  gestures;  from 
this  she  progressed  to  the  next  step,  that 
of  pointing  to  objects  and  when  the  Indian 
word  for  them  was  given,  repeating  it  over 
and  over  until  she  had  conquered  and  held 
it  fast  in  her  memory. 

With  the  children  she  made  quick  friends. 
It  was  one  of  her  chief  amusements  to  try 
and  coax  the  dull-faced  little  papooses,  lashed 
to  their  mother's  backs,  or  hanging  uncom- 
plainingly from  a  peg  in  the  lodge,  into  the 
baby  laughter  of  which  these  solemn-faced 
mites  seemed  to  have  no  faintest  knowledge. 


1 92  The  Sword  of  Justice 

They  would  stare  with  round,  black,  unblink- 
ing eyes,  at  all  her  pretty  antics,  and  seem 
by  their  dignified  gaze  to  rebuke  her  unseemly 
conduct. 

On  one  occasion  Pierre  found  her  before  the 
lodge  of  Olotoraca's  squaw,  frolicking  with  little 
Natara.1  The  child's  mother  was  standing  near 
looking  down  upon  them  with  kindly  sympathy 
in  her  gaze.  Catching  sight  of  Pierre,  the 
woman  said  with  a  smile,  "  By  and  by  Pvchi 
Hvtki  will  have  papooses  of  her  own.  Then 
will  she  know  joy." 

"What  does  she  say  of  me?  "  inquired  Eugenie, 
quickly  catching  the  sound  of  her  Indian  name 
in  the  woman's  speech. 

Pierre  looked  down  on  the  sweet  face  raised 
up  to  his.  He  flushed  a  little  as  he  gave  her  a 
somewhat  free  translation  of  the  Indian  woman's 
words. 

"  She  says  that  by  and  by  the  White  Pigeon 
will  grow  used  to  Indian  ways  and  be  happy." 

"Ask  her,  Pierre,  why  she  calls  the  boy 
Natara,"  inquired  Euge'nie,  looking  toward 
the  sturdy  little  brown  creature  who  had 
deserted  his  playfellow,  and  having  toddled 
to  his  mother,  stood  with  head  pressed  against 
her  knee.  Hearing  the  white  girl's  question, 
the  woman  smiled  genially,  showing  a  mouth 
full  of  regular  shining  teeth.  "  Because  he 
like,  all  time,  to  play  in  dirt,"  she  answered, 

1  Dirt-dauber. 


The  Sword  of  Jits  tice  193 

pressing  the  small  black  head  lovingly  against 
her. 

As  time  passed  on  the  Indian  women  liked 
the  French  girl  none  the  less  because  she 
did  not  wish  to  remain  idle.  She  was  quick 
to  learn,  under  their  tuition,  the  making  of 
moccasins  and  the  fashioning  of  the  buckskin 
clothing  worn  by  the  tribe  during  the  winter 
months.  She  even  insisted  upon  bearing  some 
part  in  their  field  labours,  though  in  this  they 
accorded  her  the  lighter  tasks  of  planting  or 
weeding,  rather  than  that  of  ploughing. 

So  for  a  time  she  was  happy,  in  spite  of  her 
savage  surroundings,  for  love  was  growing  daily 
in  her  heart,  making  bare  existence  a  joy. 
Then  a  little  cloud  began  to  dim  the  bright- 
ness of  her  life,  and  the  girl  was  not  slow  to 
see  that  something  was  amiss,  though  what, 
she  was  far  from  guessing. 

Within  a  few  days  of  their  arrival  at  the 
Indian  village  Satouriona  had  caused  a  new 
lodge  to  be  erected  in  the  group  on  the  hill. 
When  it  was  completed  he  signified  to  the  aston- 
ished Pierre  that  it  was  intended  for  his  use  and 
he  was  expected  to  take  his  squaw  to  it. 

Utterly  at  a  loss,  Pierre  tried  to  explain  to 
the  chief  that  Euge'nie  was  not  his  squaw. 

"  Then  why  have  you  borne  her  to  the  home 
of  your  people?  Why  do  you  rub  your  face 
against  hers?  "  questioned  the  uncompromising 
old  man. 


1 94  The  Sword  of  Justice 

"  I  brought  her  to  my  father's  house  because 
I  hoped  one  day  to  make  her  my  squaw,"  the 
young  man  explained. 

"  Then  take  her  to  your  lodge,"  he  com- 
manded, as  if  in  settlement  of  the  difficulty. 

"  My  father  does  not  understand.  The  cus- 
toms of  my  people  are  not  as  the  customs  of 
his  tribe.  We  do  not  take  a  squaw  to  our 
lodge  fire  until  a  medicine  man  has  said  charm 
words  over  us,  so  that  we  may  do  no  evil,"  ex- 
claimed Pierre. 

"  Helmacarpa,  he  is  a  great  medicine  man, 
he  will  say  charm  words  over  my  white  son, 
then  shall  he  take  his  squaw  to  the  lodge  pre- 
pared for  him."  The  chief's  words  were  nicely 
balanced  between  a  question  and  a  command. 

Pierre  wrung  his  hands  helplessly,  but  he 
found  no  words  with  which  to  convince  the 
chief  of  the  Tightness  of  his  attitude.  In  the 
end  he  was  obliged  to  fall  back  on  a  simple 
refusal  to  accede  to  his  commands.  At  this, 
Satouriona's  brows  came  together  in  a  black 
frown  of  disapproval. 

"The  white  man's  way  is  an  evil  way,"  he 
announced,  with  decision,  "  he  takes  a  squaw, 
he  puts  her  away  from  him,  he  does  not  send 
her  back  to  her  people,  he  makes  her  to  stay 
and  bear  dishonor  among  the  tribe." 

But  Pierre  still  remained  obstinate  and  there 
the  matter  rested. 

Some  time  had  elapsed  before  the  lad  began 


The  Sword  of  Justice  195 

to  notice  that  a  change  had  come  over  the 
women  with  regard  to  the  white  girl.  Eugenie 
had  known  of  this  change  long  before,  and  her 
first  vague  wonder  had  passed  through  many 
stages,  until  it  reached  abject,  miserable  fear. 
Now,  instead  of  admiration  and  service,  she 
received  harsh  commands,  scowling  looks, 
avoidance,  and  sometimes  even  blows.  When 
she  could  contain  herself  no  longer,  she  ap- 
pealed to  Pierre  for  explanation. 

The  state  of  things  once  unfolded  before  his 
astonished  mind,  his  anger  passed  bounds.  It 
took  him  quickly  into  the  presence  of  the  chief, 
where  in  burning  words  he  poured  out  his  com- 
plaint and  demanded  punishment  for  the  women 
who  had  so  persecuted  Eugenie. 

Through  all  his  impassioned  recital  the  chief 
smoked  with  perfect  indifference,  not  showing 
by  the  movement  of  an  eyelash,  that  he  heard 
the  hot  words  poured  into  his  ear.  Pierre 
having  ceased  at  length  for  want  of  breath, 
Satouriona  took  his  pipe  from  his  mouth,  and, 
after  a  deliberate  pause,  not  even  turning  his 
head,  said,  "  If  the  woman  hath  committed 
wrong,  and  Chepane,  her  lord,  has  put  her 
away  because  of  it,  let  her  bear  the  h'eavy  hand 
on  her  back.  It  is  right.  But  if  the  woman 
hath  done  nothing  amiss,  then  the  wrong  lies 
with  her  lord,  who  has  put  her  away  without 
cause ;  he  alone  can  right  it." 

Satouriona  delivered  this  speech  as  if  it  were 


1 96  The  Sword  of  Justice 

a  final  judgment,  which  admitted  of  no  appeal 
or  argument,  and  as  Pierre  made  his  way  out  of 
the  lodge,  he  was  beginning  at  last  to  see  clearly, 
what  many  another  has  learned  through  hard 
circumstance,  —  the  utter  futility  of  trying  to  beat 
against  the  customs  and  prejudices  of  a  prim- 
itive people. 

For  an  hour  after  this  he  roamed  the  woods 
and  thought.  He  struggled  to  see  some  way 
out  of  his  difficult  position.  He  could  not, 
single-handed,  fight  the  whole  tribe  into  sub- 
mission to  his  ideas,  though  in  his  hot  youth, 
this  is  what  he  most  desired  to  do. 

When  he  returned  to  the  village  again  he 
was  as  far  as  ever  from  any  solution  of  his  diffi- 
culty. He  sought  Eugenie;  he  had  left  her, 
vowing  vengeance  and  promising  swift  redress 
for  her  unhappy  condition.  He  shrank  from 
facing  her  now,  loathing  himself  for  his  help- 
lessness. Which  way  could  he  turn?  What 
comfort  could  he  offer? 

He  found  her  behind  one  of  the  huts,  crouched 
down  with  her  head  on  her  knees  weeping 
bitterly.  Some  trouble  had  befallen  during  his 
little  absence,  for  she  carried  the  red  mark  of  a 
blow  on  her  cheek.  From  within  the  squaws' 
lodge  he  could  hear  the  fierce,  excited  talk 
which  bespoke  a  discussion  of  importance 
going  forward. 

At  the  sound  of  her  name,  Eugenie  did  not 
look  up  but  continued  to  sob  on  in  a  heart- 


The  Sword  of  Justice  197 

broken  way,  which  racked  poor  Pierre  and 
made  him  feel  as  if  in  some  vague  way  he  was 
entirely  to  blame  for  the  unhappy  state  of 
affairs.  He  seated  himself  beside  her,  and 
taking  her  hand  in  his  began  to  fondle  it  gently, 
waiting  until  the  paroxysm  of  grief  had  spent 
itself.  After  a  time  the  sobs  grew  less  and  less, 
and  finally  ceased.  Raising  her  head  she  dried 
her  eyes  and  drew  closer  to  Pierre  for  comfort. 

"  Take  me  away,  Pierre,""  she  whispered,  her 
pleading  eyes  speaking  even  more  eloquently 
than  her  tongue.  "Take  me  into  the  forest 
again  and  we  will  live  on  roots  and  berries,  and 
I  will  not  give  you  trouble.  I  cannot  bear  it 
longer,  here." 

The  look  of  hope  died  in  her  eyes  as  she  saw 
the  decided  negative  of  Pierre's  head.  "  I  dare 
not,  my  love,"  he  answered  softly,  "  you  would 
suffer  too  great  hardship,  besides  being  in 
danger  of  the  Spanish  as  well.  I  dare  not." 

"  Why  do  they  serve  me  so  ill,  Pierre?  I  have 
done  naught  to  injure  or  try  them,"  she  ques- 
tioned abjectly,  after  a  little  time. 

Here,  at  last,  he  faced  the  question  which  he 
had  so  dreaded.  It  found  him  as  unprepared 
as  if  he  had  not  given  an  hour's  hard  thinking  to 
it.  There  was  a  long  silence,  then  he  began, 
hesitating  and  stammering,  looking  away  from 
the  calm  gray  eyes  that  were  fixed  on  him. 
"The  Indians  think  that  — that  I  should  — take 
you  —  to  my  lodge  —  to  be  with  me  —  " 


198  The  Sword  of  Justice 

Before  he  could  make  an  end  of  his  speech, 
she  had  sprung  to  her  feet,  joy  lighting  her 
changing  face  and  chasing  all  the  pained  misery 
from  her  eyes.  "Oh,  Pierre!  do  they  —  could 
you  —  may  I  come  and  be  with  you,  where  no 
one  will  hurt  me?  "  Her  eager  questions  tumbled 
over  each  other  in  their  desire  for  utterance. 

It  was  the  man's  turn  now  to  drop  his  head 
in  his  hands,  which  he  did  with  something  like  a 
groan.  "  Do  not  tempt  me,  Eugenie  ;  I  am  but 
a  man,  and  I  fear  myself,"  he  exclaimed,  almost 
harshly. 

A  look  of  wonder  came  into  the  young  face 
above  him.  She  seemed  to  ponder  his  words  a 
minute  trying  to  draw  out  the  full  measure  of 
their  meaning.  It  was  evident  that  she  failed, 
for  she  shook  her  head  as  if  giving  the  matter 
up.  Bending,  she  took  her  lover's  face  between 
her  hands  and  turned  it  up  until  their  eyes  were 
gazing  deep  into  each  other.  He  saw  the  pure 
gray  depths  of  hers  which  mirrored  only  won- 
der, and  he  heard  her  say  with  a  trust  whose 
infinite  sweetness  smote  him  like  a  pain,  "  Why 
do  you  fear,  Pierre?  I  have  no  fear  of  you." 

In  an  instant  he  was  kneeling  before  her, 
both  her  hands  clasped  in  his,  his  head  thrown 
back,  a  radiant  look  lighting  his  clear  handsome 
face. 

"  My  beloved,"  he  whispered,  "  I  have  been 
an  evil,  selfish  brute  to  let  you  suffer  because  I 
dared  not  play  the  man.  Come  to  me,  for  you 


The  Sword  of  Justice  \  99 

need  not  fear  me,"  and  then  he  bent  his  head 
and  clasped  her  two  soft  hands  over  his  eyes, 
and  knelt  so  for  a  long  minute,  and  in  his  heart 
he  vowed  himself  anew  to  her  protection,  and 
now  he  added,  "  Even  from  myself." 

The  setting  sun  sent  out  a  long  shaft  of  gold 
which  rested  across  his  bowed  figure  like  a 
sword  of  light,  as  if  a  great  invisible  hand  had 
given  him  the  accolade. 

Arise  Sir  Pierre  Debre\  true  knight  and  val- 
iant soldier,  for  in  conquering  your  own  weak- 
ness, you  have  conquered  man's  greatest  foe. 


2OO  The  Sword  of  Justice 


CHAPTER  XVIII 

WHEN  Pierre  stood  before  Satouriona  again, 
he  found  him  almost  as  he  had  left  him  more 
than  an  hour  before,  still  smoking.  The  chief 
passed  his  eyes  slowly  over  the  young  figure 
drawn  up  before  him,  and  something  in  the 
serious  face  held  his  gaze.  His  eyes  questioned 
the  boy,  though  his  lips  uttered  no  word.  "  I 
come  to  say,  my  father,  that  it  shall  be  as  you 
desire.  To-morrow  I  will  bear  my  squaw, 
Pvchi  Hvtki,  to  my  lodge,  there  to  dwell  with 
her." 

The  chief  removed  the  pipe  from  his  mouth 
and  sent  a  cloud  of  hazy  smoke  like  a  curtain 
before  his  face.  His  eyes  looked  out  from  this 
dimness  with  a  gleam  of  satisfaction  which  his 
indifferent  tone  did  not  betray. 

"  Chepane  at  last  speaks  words  of  wisdom. 
It  shall  be  as  he  says  and  good  will  come  to 
him  because  of  it."  And  when  the  young  man 
left  him  again  he  let  a  feeling  of  unmixed  satis- 
faction possess  him. 

Doubtless,  you  will  wonder  why  this  question 
of  the  taking  or  leaving  a  squaw  should  have 
given  the  chief  one  moment's  thought.  To  be 


The  Sword  of  Justice  201 

sure,  the  putting  away  of  a  woman  taken  from 
another  tribe,  by  their  customs  necessitated  the 
sending  of  this  woman  back  to  her  own  kin- 
dred, since,  having  failed  to  please  her  lord,  the 
tribe  of  her  husband  no  longer  felt  it  incum- 
bent upon  them  to  charge  themselves  with  her 
maintenance.  It  was  this  motive  that  had 
moved  the  women  to  their  ill-treatment  of  the 
girl,  though  with  it  was  mingled  a  wonder  as 
to  what  could  be  the  offence  for  which  she 
had  been  put  aside,  almost  as  soon  as  taken. 
But  other  reasons  than  these  weighed  with 
the  chief,  who  pondered  much  and  waited 
impatiently,  for  the  fulfilment  of  Helmacarpa's 
prophecy.  "  Your  white  son  will  take  a  squaw 
from  among  his  own  people  and  will  dwell 
with  her  until  he  departs  to  his  own  land." 
This  being  part  of  the  same  prophecy  which 
promised  deliverance  from  the  Spanish  and 
vengeance  for  past  wrongs,  Satouriona  had 
rejoiced  greatly  at  the  appearance  of  Eugenie ; 
she  being  to  him  an  earnest  of  the  fulfilment 
of  the  entire  prediction.  If,  after  having  taken 
his  squaw,  Pierre  failed  to  dwell  with  her  as 
Helmacarpa  had  said,  might  not  this  in  some 
way  serve  to  break  the  charm  and  fail  to 
bring  the  deliverance  for  which  he  so  deeply 
longed. 

He  now  summoned  his  chief  wife,  and  told 
her  of  his  white  son's  decision,  and  commanded 
that  she  and  all  the  women  henceforth  treat 


202  The  Sword  of  Justice 

Pvchi  Hvtki  with  kindness,  if  they  wished  not 
to  feel  his  heavy  hand  on  their  backs. 

The  next  day  was  one  of  preparation  for 
Pierre ;  for  now  that  he  had  yielded  himself  to 
the  inevitable,  he  entered  into  the  spirit  of  his 
Indian  marriage.  All  day  long,  as  he  brought 
green  boughs  and  turned  the  inside  of  his  lodge 
into  a  bower,  or  gathered  moss  to  make  a  soft 
bed  for  the  tender  little  body  which  was  to 
occupy  it,  strange  sweet  thrills  of  joy  shot 
through  him  at  the  thought  of  so  soon  taking 
her  into  his  own  care. 

He  had  sent  her,  according  to  the  custom  of  the 
Indians,  a  present  of  a  suit  of  finest  buckskin 
clothing.  Now  he  waited  her  coming  beside 
the  door  of  his  lodge,  his  brown  body  rubbed 
to  satin-smoothness  with  nut  oil,  his  choicest 
braveries  of  collar  and  belt  about  his  neck  and 
middle,  on  his  head  a  new-made  crest  of  white 
heron's  feathers. 

Eugenie  in  the  lodge  of  the  squaws  was  being 
arrayed  for  her  marriage. 

At  last,  after  what  seemed  to  his  impatience  a 
very  long  waiting,  he  saw  the  little  procession 
issue  from  the  women's  lodge  and  take  their  way 
across  the  open  space  toward  his  hut.  In  an 
instant  he  was  on  his  feet,  all  his  soul  in  his  eyes 
as  he  watched  the  coming  of  the  woman  he  loved. 

He  saw  her  drawing  nearer,  preceded  by 
two  young  Indian  lads  blowing  shrilly  on  their 
reed  pipes,  followed  by  a  group  of  the  young 


The  Sword  of  Justice  203 

squaws  and  half-grown  girls,  while  the  older 
women  stood  back  and  watched  with  curious 
eyes  to  see  their  meeting. 

They  had  arrayed  her  in  the  buckskin  suit 
of  his  sending,  and  from  her  tiny  moccasins, 
her  fringed  leggings  which  fastened  just  below 
the  knee,  to  her  short  skirt  and  loose  buckskin 
sacque,  she  was  Indian  in  dress.  Each  of  the 
women  had  lent  of  her  best  in  armlets,  and 
necklaces,  of  beads  and  shells;  these  hung  so 
thick  about  her  neck  dropping  even  to  her 
waist,  that  they  seemed  to  form  a  sort  of  breast- 
plate. Her  soft  blue-black  hair  was  loosened 
and  hung  to  its  shimmering  length  behind  her. 
To  the  ornaments  of  the  Indians  were  added  a 
wreath  of  white  blossoms  which  she  had  woven 
together,  and  with  which  she  had  crowned  her- 
self. A  look  of  childlike  interest  and  amuse- 
ment at  this,  which  seems  a  sort  of  play  to  her, 
was  fighting  on  her  face  with  a  vague  thought 
that  maybe  something  of  seriousness  lay  back 
of  it  all. 

This  was  the  picture  that  held  his  eyes,  as  he 
stood  beside  his  lodge  waiting  her  coming. 

To  wait  as  he  should  until  her  feet  had 
crossed  the  little  distance  between  them  seemed 
more  than  he  had  strength  for.  With  head 
erect,  the  very  picture  of  strength  and  youth, 
he  went  toward  her.  He  passed  between  the 
two  shrilly  piping  musicians,  and  stood  an 
instant  in  her  path  looking  down  upon  her, 


204  The  Sword  of  Justice 

then,  stooping,  he  lifted  her  in  his  arms  and 
holding  her  against  his  shoulder,  he  strode 
back  to  the  lodge,  entered  it,  and  dropped  the 
straw  mat  over  the  opening. 

Then  he  set  the  two  little  moccasined  feet  to 
the  earth  again  and  stood  before  her. 

"  See,"  she  exclaimed,  patting  her  buckskin 
sacque  and  laughing  softly,  "  I  am  Pvchi  Hvtki. 
I  am  Indian  even  as  you." 

Unutterable  thoughts  were  beating  up  in  his 
soul  striving  to  find  vent  in  speech.  He  felt  a 
choking  sensation  in  the  throat  as  if  the  rush  of 
thronging  words  were  suffocating  him.  If  he 
could  coin  his  very  soul  into  one  expression, 
which  would  tell  her  all  that  he  would  do,  and 
refrain,  for  her  dear  sake;  that  is  what  he 
longed  to  do,  but  speech  would  not  come. 

Bending,  he  lifted  her  from  the  earth  again, 
and  held  her  against  him  in  an  embrace  which, 
in  its  strength  and  tenderness,  seemed  to  say  all 
that  mere  words  refused  to  express. 

That  night  Eugenie  slept  like  a  happy  child 
in  her  moss  bed,  tears  of  thankful  joy  but 
newly  dried  on  her  cheek,  while  across  the 
lodge  opening,  rolled  in  his  deerskin  robe  lay 
Pierre,  guarding  her  alike  from  foes  within  and 
without. 

The  week  which  followed  Eugenie's  coming 
to  Pierre's  lodge  was  an  idyl.  To  the  girl,  still 
so  much  a  child  in  thought  and  feeling,  it  was 


The  Sword  of  Justice  205 

a  long-continued  play.  The  little  tasks  of  cook- 
ing and  ordering  her  green-boughed  household, 
were  like  a  child's  housekeeping  in  a  home  of 
its  own  building  in  a  corner  of  a  yard. 

The  boy  also  entered  into  the  spirit  of  the 
play,  and  two  happier  children  did  not  exist 
than  these,  in  that  brief  week  before  the  storm 
caught  them  again  in  its  grasp. 

Pierre  hunted  much  in  these  days,  for  the 
poor  fare  of  boiled  cracked  corn  was  not  very 
palatable  to  Eugenie.  From  these  expeditions 
he  returned  to  find  her  always  watching  for 
him  with  anxious  eyes;  for  she  would  grow 
strangely  uneasy,  if  he  remained  long  away. 

After  one  such  roving  in  which  he  had  wan- 
dered farther  than  usual,  he  returned  to  the 
village  to  find  no  sweet  anxious  face  looking 
out  for  him.  The  emptiness  of  the  lodge  smote 
him  like  a  blow. 

He  began  an  instant  search.  From  the 
excited  squaws  he  learned  that  after  his  leav- 
ing, Pvchi  Hvtki,  had  gone  with  them  to  the 
field  to  help  them  sow  grain.  She  had  been 
walking  along  the  furrow,  dropping  the  seed 
corn  into  the  fresh  ploughed  earth,  when  like  a 
swift  breath  of  wind,  there  had  fallen  upon  her, 
two,  three,  four,  they  knew  not  how  many  of 
the  evil  pale-faces  from  the  Fort.  They  had 
caught  her,  screaming,  into  their  midst,  and 
had  thrown  over  her  head  a  black  thing  which 
stifled  her  cries.  The  terror-stricken  women 


206  The  Sword  of  Justice 

had  been  so  dazed  by  the  suddenness  of  the 
onslaught,  that  they  stood  staring,  forgetful  to 
raise  an  outcry.  When  they  did,  and  the  braves 
came  in  hot  pursuit,  the  Spaniards  had  already 
a  good  start.  The  Indians  had  followed,  and 
had  not  yet  returned;  that  was  all  that  they 
could  tell  him. 

Scarcely  waiting  to  hear  the  end  of  the  tale, 
Pierre  seized  his  lately  dropped  weapons,  and 
stopping  only  long  enough  to  learn  which  direc- 
tion the  men  had  taken,  he  followed  with  swift 
feet  and  beating  heart. 

A  mile  distant  from  the  village  he  met  the 
Indians  returning,  and  in  their  midst  they  bore 
two  of  the  warriors,  dead,  but  Pvchi  Hvtki  was 
gone. 


The  Sword  of  Justice  207 


CHAPTER  XIX 

IN  the  week  which  followed  Eugenie's  capture 
Pierre  was  like  a  man  who  had  lost  his  reason. 
He  raged  and  wept  alternately.  He  appealed 
to  Satouriona,  to  Olotoraca,  to  every  brave  of 
any  renown  in  the  village,  that  they  enlist  a  war 
party  for  the  rescue  of  the  girl.  He  harangued 
them,  striving  by  harping  on  their  personal 
grievances  to  awaken  a  desire  for  vengeance 
which  he  might  turn  to  his  own  purpose.  He 
even  went  to  the  length  of  attempting  to  lead  a 
war  party  himself,  he  who  had  not  yet  been  in 
his  first  battle,  nor  taken  the  scalp  of  a  single 
enemy.  This  effort,  as  was  to  be  expected, 
elicited  nothing  more  than  a  grunt  of  disap- 
proval from  the  braves.  No  one  came  forward 
to  follow  a  leader  so  unknown  and  so  young. 
Poor  Pierre !  Even  as  he  argued  and  pleaded 
with  them  to  go  out  against  the  Spaniards,  none 
knew  so  well  as  he  the  utter  futility  of  the 
effort,  for  had  not  he  been  within  the  Fort,  and 
did  he  not  know  its  force  and  defences  far  bet- 
ter than  they?  In  spite  of  all  this,  however,  he 
talked  and  argued  because  his  raging  spirit  must 
find  some  vent,  even  if  it  were  but  the  poor 


208  The  Sword  of  Justice 

one  of  speech.  All  his  eloquence  proving  of  no 
avail  he  was  starting  out  single-handed,  when 
Satouriona's  wisdom  slipped  in  and  prevented. 

After  this,  Pierre  was  confined  to  his  lodge,  and 
two  watchers  kept  a  strict  guard  lest  he  escape. 

Then  it  was  that  he  lay  in  his  hut,  face  to  the 
ground,  grieving  like  a  wounded  animal,  refusing 
to  touch  food  or  heed  the  voices  of  his  adopted 
people.  Everything  in  the  dear  familiar  little 
place  found  a  tongue  to  speak  to  him  of  his 
loss,  to  remind  him  of  that  short  time  of  per- 
fect joy.  That  one  week  of  self-conquest  had 
put  the  crowning  touch  upon  his  manhood,  and 
taught  his  love  an  infinite  tenderness  which  the 
love  of  twenty  years  seldom  knows.  He  pic- 
tured Eugenie  constantly  as  he  had  seen  her 
coming  toward  him  on  the  night  of  their  Indian 
wedding,  decked  out  in  barbaric  fineries,  a  little 
shy,  a  little  frightened  at  all  the  unwonted  noise 
and  stir  about  her,  but  wholly  trustful  and  con- 
tent since  she  walked  toward  him.  Again  he 
felt  her  light  weight  against  him  as  he  stooped 
and  lifted  her  to  his  shoulder  and  bore  her  over 
the  threshold  of  his  lodge.  Then  upon  this 
picture  would  rush  anew  the  thought  of  her 
loss.  The  sense  of  absence  seemed  to  create 
great  voids  which  neither  mind  nor  soul  could 
bridge  over  and  he  would  feel  himself  sinking 
through  them  into  an  abyss  of  bottomless 
misery. 

Darkness  and  day  passed  unheeded,  for  since 


The  Sword  of  Justice  209 

the  light  had  gone  from  his  soul,  for  him,  it  had 
left  the  heavens  as  well.  The  familiar  sounds 
of  the  village  fell  on  unheeding  ears,  and  even 
when  a  stir  of  excitement  began  to  pulse  through 
the  tribe  late  on  the  evening  of  the  sixth  day,  he 
gave  it  no  heed,  nor  did  he  notice  that  the 
guard,  which  had  kept  faithful  watch  for  three 
days,  had  now  left  him  to  his  own  devices.  He 
did  not  see  that  long  after  darkness  fell  the 
lodge  fires  still  flared  brightly,  he  did  not  note 
the  murmur  of  voices  which  came  up  from  the 
village  square,  nor  did  he  even  heed  the  sharp 
staccato  rumble  of  the  tawaiegons  as  they  rose 
and  fell  with  the  impassioned  oratory  of  the 
chief.  He  did  not  rouse  himself  until  Satour- 
iona,  accompanied  by  Olotoraca,  who  bore  in 
his  hand  a  flaming  torch,  came  to  his  hut  and, 
standing  above  him,  bade  him  rise. 

"  For  three  days  my  son  has  bowed  his  head 
to  the  dust  in  mourning  for  his  squaw.  It  is 
enough.  Arise  now,  take  food  and  recover  thy 
strength.  Already  the  canoes  of  our  enemies 
are  at  our  shores,  and  even  now  we  go  forth  to 
meet  them  like  men." 

At  the  sound  of  these  words,  Pierre  sprang  to 
his  feet,  galvanized  into  life  by  the  stirring  hope 
of  being  allowed  to  battle  against  those  who  had 
so  severely  injured  him.  He  saw  by  the  look  on 
both  the  faces  lighted  by  Olotoraca's  torch,  that 
something  of  serious  import  had  happened. 
His  impulsive  questions  soon  elicited  the  in- 
14 


2  io  The  Sword  of  Justice 

formation  that  one  of  the  tribesmen,  wandering 
late  near  the  sea,  had  discovered  three  great 
wooden  vessels,  which  were  come  within  the 
mouth  of  the  Tacatacourou  River  and  there 
rode  at  anchor,  waiting  for  the  daylight,  when 
doubtless  the  Spaniards  would  descend  upon 
them  and  put  them  all  to  death. 

The  whole  tribe  was  about  to  march  now  in 
battle  array,  and  when  the  dawn  broke  their 
enemies  would  find  them  drawn  up  on  the 
banks  of  the  river  waiting  to  prevent  their 
landing. 

On  hearing  this  Pierre  began  his  swift  prepar- 
ations to  join  the  party.  He  called  for  food, 
and  when  a  squaw  came,  bearing  in  the  shell  of 
a  tortoise  a  great  portion  of  boiled  cracked 
corn,  he  ate  every  bit  that  the  vessel  contained 
and  even  called  for  more.  Then  he  took  down 
his  weapon  from  the  wall  of  the  hut  and  went 
forth  to  join  the  tribe. 

While  the  Indians  prepared  themselves  for 
battle,  daubing  crude  colors  on  face  and  body 
and  decking  their  heads  in  brave  array  of  feath- 
ers, in  the  cabin  of  one  of  the  vessels  which  had 
caused  all  this  excitement,  several  men  grouped 
themselves  around  a  table  in  the  dim  light  of  an 
oil-lamp,  conferring  anxiously  over  a  map 
spread  out  before  them.  You  could  not  have 
remained  five  minutes  in  this  small  company, 
without  being  able,  with  unerring  certainty,  to 


The  Sword  of  Justice  2 1 1 

say  which  of  the  men  here  gathered  was  the 
leader  of  the  party.  It  was  rather  because  of  the 
involuntary  deference  yielded  him  by  his  com- 
panions that  this  knowledge  would  have  thrust 
itself  upon  you,  than  anything  in  the  face  of  the 
man  himself.  The  curious  wedge-shaped  head 
with  its  extremely  pointed  chin,  the  long  slightly 
drooping  nose,  the  full  eyes,  the  three  deeply 
marked  horizontal  wrinkles  across  the  forehead, 
all  tended  to  lend  the  face  the  look  of  the  stu- 
dent, rather  than  the  man  of  action.  No  one 
seeing  him  thus  for  the  first  time  would  have 
guessed  him  to  be  a  man  of  unrivalled  courage, 
one  of  the  best  captains  of  his  day,  possessed  of 
a  dashing  and  romantic  spirit  which  was  to  send 
his  name  down  in  history,  coupled  with  one  of 
the  most  picturesque  acts  of  a  time  which  has 
furnished  the  world  with  much  romance. 

Certain  lines  of  age  in  the  face  were  con- 
tradicted by  the  vigor  and  alertness  of  his  body. 
Doubtless  these  marks  had  been  pencilled  there 
during  that  bitter  time  many  years  ago,  when, 
a  prisoner  in  the  hands  of  the  Spanish,  Domi- 
nique de  Gourgues,  chained  to  his  creaking 
bench,  had  bent  his  back  and  strained  at  his 
oar,  —  a  galley  slave.  Then  it  was  that  the 
fiery  spirit  of  the  Gascon,  chafing  at  the  degra- 
dation to  which  he  was  submitted,  marked  day 
by  day  this  fine  network  of  lines,  which  were  a 
written  record  of  his  hatred  and  deeply  vowed 
vengeance. 


212  The  Sword  of  Justice 

When  Charles  IX.,  under  the  domination  of 
his  mother  Catherine  de  Medicis  and  the 
Guises,  who  were  fast  pushing  him  toward  the 
bloody  eve  of  Saint  Bartholomew,  refused  to 
listen  to  the  cry  of  execration  and  horror  which 
went  up  in  France,  alike  for  Romanist  and 
Huguenot  at  the  news  of  the  massacre  at  Fort 
Caroline,  turning  a  deaf  ear  to  the  petition 
from  the  relatives  of  the  slain ;  it  remained  for 
Dominique  de  Gourgues,  a  private  gentleman 
of  Mont-de-Marsan,  to  avenge  these  wrongs, 
and  wipe  out  the  stain  on  the  honor  of  France. 
To  do  this,  the  fiery  Gascon  sold  his  inheri- 
tance, borrowed  money  from  his  brother,  and 
took  such  sums  as  those  who,  like  himself, 
burning  at  this  insult,  would  give  to  the  enter- 
prise. With  this  he  fitted  out  three  vessels  and 
on  them  he  placed  one  hundred  arquebusiers 
and  eighty  sailors  prepared  to  fight  on  land. 
He  held  a  commission  from  the  King  of 
Guienne,  ostensibly  as  a  slaver,  which  was  then 
held  to  be  an  honorable  trade.  It  was  not 
until  —  after  some  delay  and  much  cruising 
about  —  they  arrived  at  Cape  San  Antonio, 
in  Cuba,  that  the  leader  divulged  to  his  men 
the  true  reason  of  their  voyage.  At  first  his 
hearers  listened  in  silence  to  his  impassioned 
words ;  shortly  the  combustible  French  nature 
took  fire,  and  when  Gourgues  set  sail  for  the 
coast  of  Florida  he  was  accompanied  by  a  band 
of  enthusiastic  patriots. 


The  Sword  of  Justice  213 

Safe  at  last  within  the  harbor  of  the  river's 
mouth  these  men  anchored,  after  a  voyage 
whose  dangers  and  hardships  had  threatened 
them  with  extermination  more  times  than  one. 

"  By  the  reckoning  of  Jacques  Lacours  we 
must  even  now  be  near  the  spot  where  dwells 
one  of  the  great  Indian  chiefs  whom  I  hope  to 
make  our  ally,"  said  Gourgues,  glancing  from  one 
face  to  another  of  those  around  the  table.  "  It 
is  my  purpose,  that  to-morrow  so  soon  as  light 
is  come,  we  will  make  haste  to  land  before  the 
Indians  become  aware  of  our  presence.  By 
this  means,  seeing  the  strength  of  our  force, 
they  will  be  less  likely  to  offer  resistance  if 
indeed  they  prove  to  be  unfriendly,  though  this 
I  do  not  greatly  fear." 

"  And  this  trumpeter  Jacques,  are  you  as- 
sured that  he  can  indeed  do  as  he  claims  and 
make  clear  to  the  Indians  our  designs  towards 
the  Spaniards,  and  our  friendliness  toward 
them?  He  hath  to  me  the  appearance  of  being 
but  a  parlous  fool,  and  whereas  I  doubt  not  his 
loyalty,  I  have  some  misgivings  as  to  his  dis- 
cretion," questioned  Francois  Bourdelais,  with 
some  anxiety. 

"Nay,  I  think  the  fellow  hath  a  better  wit 
than  you  credit  him.  As  for  the  jargon  of  these 
savages,  he  was  many  months  here  with  the  first 
expedition  of  Jean  Ribaut  —  God  rest  his  mar- 
tyred soul — and  he  had  much  opportunity  to 
pick  up  the  savage  tongue,  for  the  Indians  were 


214  The  Sword  of  Justice 

most  friendly.  And  now,  comrades,  since  we 
start  betimes  in  the  morning  it  were  well  to 
seek  sleep  without  further  delay."  So  saying, 
the  little  council  broke  up.  With  sober  salute 
they  parted  and  soon  forgot  the  uncertainties 
of  the  morrow  in  the  rest  of  the  night. 

Before  dawn  the  next  day  all  was  stir  and 
bustle  about  the  vessels.  In  the  feeble  light  of 
lanterns  the  soldiers  were  busy  getting  their 
morning  meal  and  arming  themselves  for  the 
start.  While  it  was  yet  dark,  the  shrill  notes  of 
the  trumpet  summoned  them  on  deck,  where, 
drawn  up  in  orderly  array  they  waited  the  first 
faint  streak  of  light  to  show  them  to  their 
landing. 

This  was  not  long  in  coming,  and  so  soon  as 
the  men  could  see  sufficiently  well  for  the  task 
the  boats  were  lowered. 

Some  of  the  soldiers  had  already  gone  over 
the  sides  and  were  seated  in  them,  when  an 
abrupt  command  stopped  the  hurried  debarka- 
tion. For  an  instant  the  men  hesitated,  wonder- 
ing at  the  sudden  pause,  but  soon  the  cause  for 
the  change  became  apparent. 

The  gloom  had  lightened  perceptibly,  and 
there  could  be  seen,  dimly  at  first,  but  more 
plainly  each  minute,  a  host  of  plumed  and 
painted  savages  drawn  up  along  the  shore. 
They  made  no  demonstration,  either  of  hos- 
tility or  welcome,  but  stood  like  so  many  figures 
hewn  out  of  wood. 


1  he  Sword  of  Justice  215 

A  hasty  council  of  the  officers  was  sum- 
moned, while  on  deck,  amongst  the  soldiers, 
many  were  the  speculations  as  to  the  import  of 
this  demonstration,  and  as  ever  under  such  cir- 
cumstances, two  factions  quickly  sprang  up, 
the  one  declaring  that  the  savages  waited  to 
welcome  them,  the  other  that  they  were  there 
for  slaughter. 

Amongst  the  leaders  also  this  same  inde- 
cision prevailed,  until  one  bethought  him  sud- 
denly of  Jacques  Lacours,  the  trumpeter,  who 
was  hastily  summoned  and  shortly  came  into 
their  presence.  "Jacques,  you  have  some 
knowledge  of  these  savages,  what  interpreta- 
tion do  you  place  upon  their  action?  Do  they 
desire  to  offer  us  welcome,  or  shall  we  shortly 
expect  a  shower  of  their  villanous  arrows  if  we 
attempt  to  make  land?"  broke  out  Gourgues, 
hastily,  before  the  man  was  fairly  in  the  cabin. 

The  trumpeter  shook  his  head  gravely. 
"  These  savages  come  not  with  every  face 
daubed  in  paint,  every  head  decked  with  feath- 
ers, and  every  right  hand  bearing  a  bow  only 
to  give  us  welcome,  my  captain.  They  are 
in  array  of  battle,  and  unless  we  can  win  their 
confidence  we  will  not  set  foot  on  their  shores 
without  a  bloody  fight." 

Gourgues  frowned  impatiently.  "This  must 
not  be.  While  the  Spanish  murderers  go  un- 
punished, I  have  no  men  to  lose  by  Indian 
arrows.  A  pest  on  the  silly  babel  of  tongues 


2 1 6  The  Sword  of  Justice 

that  fell  on  this  world,  so  that  one  man's  ears 
should  not  be  open  to  another's  speech." 

"  If  my  captain  gives  me  leave  to  speak —  ?  " 
said  the  young  soldier,  touching  his  morion 
respectfully. 

"  Speak  on,  man,  if  you  have  any  plan  to 
offer.  I  foresee  that  we  will  be  obliged  to 
depend  much  upon  your  wisdom  in  what  lies 
before  us,  since  in  all  this  company  your  tongue 
only  can  twist  itself  to  this  savage  utterance." 

"  If  I  may  take  a  small  boat  and  two  men  to 
row  me,  and  bearing  no  weapon  in  my  hand, 
put  out  toward  the  shore,  the  Indians  will  have 
no  fear  of  such  a  little  force.  If  I  can  but  get 
anear,  I  have  enough  of  their  words  at  my 
command  to  bring  them  to  understand  that  we 
mean  them  no  ill  but  rather  seek  alliance  with 
them." 

"  'T  is  a  perilous  thing  for  you,  lad,  and  you 
are  like  to  be  transfixed  with  a  dozen  of  their 
savage  weapons  before  you  come  near  enough 
for  speech;  but,  by  my  life,  I  see  no  other 
course  open.  Do  as  you  suggest,  and  God 
give  you  safety." 

The  young  soldier  saluted  and  left  the  cabin, 
eager  to  execute  his  plan. 

From  the  shore  the  rows  of  silent  feathered 
savages  watched  the  lowering  of  the  small  boat, 
watched  the  three  weaponless  men  drop  over 
the  side  and  take  their  places,  two  at  the  oars, 
the  third  standing  out  boldly  defenceless  in  the 


The  Sword  of  Justice  217 

prow  of  the  oncoming  craft.  As  they  drew 
near,  the  Indians  saw  that  he  made  signs  of 
friendliness  to  them,  and  that  he  bore  in  his 
extended  hands  strings  of  beads  and  mirrors. 
They  were  not  to  be  appeased  by  such  trifles. 
When  the  black-hearted  people  had  first  come 
to  their  land,  they  also  had  offered  them  such 
things  by  way  of  trade,  but  they  had  long 
since  ceased  this,  and  now  took  by  force  what- 
ever they  wanted.  So  the  Indians  looked  with 
wary  eye  on  this  bearer  of  gifts ;  but  since  he 
came  alone  and  unarmed,  they  offered  him  no 
violence. 

When  the  boat  drew  nearer,  the  soldier  in 
the  bow  began  to  shout  to  them  a  few  words 
in  their  own  tongue,  interspersed  with  French. 
No  sooner  did  this  sound  fall  on  the  ears  of 
Pierre,  than,  forgetting  everything  in  the  great 
hope  that  suddenly  sprung  up  in  him,  he  un- 
ceremoniously thrust  aside  those  before  him 
and  pushed  through  the  ranks  of  Indians  until 
he  stood  out  in  front. 

"Are  you  Frenchmen  or  Spaniards?"  he 
called,  his  voice  ringing  out  like  a  clarion. 

"  French,  French !  "  shouted  the  man  in  re- 
turn, overjoyed  at  the  sound  of  his  own  lan- 
guage and  amazed  to  hear  it  issue  from  the 
mouth  of  an  Indian.  On  the  vessels  behind 
him  they  heard  his  shout,  and  chorussed  as 
from  one  throat,  "France!  France!  France!" 

As  for  the  Indians,  to  whom  Pierre  was  now 


2 1 8  The  Sword  of  Justice 

speaking  in  quick,  excited  manner,  they  seemed 
on  a  sudden  to  have  gone  wild  with  joy.  They 
were  clapping  their  hands  and  shouting,  even 
dancing  and  embracing  one  another  in  their 
sudden  access  of  delight. 

When  the  boat  touched  the  shore  a  dozen 
hands  lifted  the  young  soldier  from  his  place 
and  set  him  on  the  earth.  He  was  surrounded 
by  a  crowd  of  chattering  savages  and  borne 
away  in  their  midst,  they  plying  him  with  ques- 
tions in  such  rapid  succession  that  his  limited 
knowledge  of  the  Indian  speech  made  it  well 
nigh  impossible  for  him  to  understand,  much 
less  answer  them.  After  the  first  excitement 
was  past,  however,  Pierre  succeeded  in  push- 
ing his  way  into  the  crowd,  and  Jacques  with  a 
gasp  of  relief  seized  him  as  a  drowning  man 
clutches  at  a  straw. 

After  a  moment  of  close  inspection,  the  sol- 
dier exclaimed  in  amazement,  looking  over 
Pierre's  brown,  painted  body,  and  back  to  the 
face  which  bore  only  two  disfiguring  streaks 
of  red  upon  the  cheek.  "  Why,  man,  you  are 
no  savage."  Pierre  smiled  a  little  at  his  tone 
of  wondering  conviction. 

"  Nay,  I  am  a  Frenchman  even  as  you.  I 
am  of  the  expedition  of  Rene"  de  Loudonniere 
and  was  saved  from  the  massacre  at  Fort  Caro- 
line by  these  Indians.  I  have  dwelt  with  them 
for  more  than  two  years,  and  am  as  one  of 
them." 


The  Sword  of  Justice  219 

"  It  is  for  the  avenging  of  this  foul  insult  to 
the  French  that  my  captain,  Dominique  de 
Gourgues,  comes  hither,"  exclaimed  the  soldier 
impetuously. 

"Say  you  so,  man?  This  news  passes  my 
belief,  it  is  so  joyous,"  cried  Pierre,  about  to 
fling  himself  upon  his  countrymen  in  the  ardor 
of  a  French  embrace,  when  Satouriona,  who, 
with  Olotoraca  and  the  braves  of  the  tribe, 
stood  by  fretting  with  impatience  during  this 
talk,  plucked  at  him  now,  and  demanded  to 
know  the  reason  of  the  French  in  coming. 
When  Pierre  repeated  to  them  the  news  that 
he  had  just  gathered,  it  was  hastily  passed 
from  mouth  to  ear  through  all  the  throng, 
who  straightway  set  up  such  shouting  and 
howling  of  joy,  that  the  forces  on  the  vessel 
became  more  and  more  uneasy,  picturing  the 
brave  young  soldier  in  the  agonies  of  torture. 
They  were  even  considering  an  attempt  at  a 
rescue,  when,  fortunately  for  all  concerned,  the 
crowd  surged  apart  for  an  instant  and  disclosed 
Jacques,  unharmed  and  seemingly  unconcerned 
in  all  the  uproar. 

But  allow  the  young  emissary  to  return  to 
the  ship  again  they  would  not.  They  marched 
him  back  to  the  village,  where,  after  he  had  been 
feasted  with  the  best  that  they  could  offer,  they 
held  a  hasty  council  and  chose  from  among  the 
Indians,  swift  runners  to  go  out  to  all  the  chiefs 
under  the  dependency  of  Satouriona,  and  sum- 


22O  The  Sword  of  Justice 

mon  them  in  haste  to  a  great  council  to  be  held 
on  the  morrow. 

It  was  late  in  the  afternoon  when  Jacques  was 
allowed  to  return  to  the  ship,  and  Olotoraca 
accompanied  him  as  bearer  of  a  message  to 
Gourgues. 

A  shout  of  joy  and  relief  went  up  from  the 
vessels  on  seeing  the  soldier  returning  unhurt 
and  in  company  with  a  magnificent  specimen 
of  a  young  savage.  When  they  came  over  the 
side,  Olotoraca  passed  between  the  line  of 
curious  wondering  sailors  and  soldiers  with  the 
erect  dignity  of  a  prince  who  has  always  walked 
in  the  eyes  of  the  multitude.  With  the  same 
dignified  self-possession  he  waited  in  the  cabin 
while  swift  question  and  answer  flew  back  and 
forth  between  Jacques  and  his  superior.  When, 
however,  he  felt  that  enough  had  been  said,  he 
stepped  forward  and  delivered  himself  in  Indian 
of  the  speech  which  he  had  been  sent  to  bear. 

"  Satouriona,  the  great  chief  of  all  this  country, 
sends  to  the  great  chief  of  the  wooden  vessels 
greeting.  To-morrow  if  he  will  come  to  our 
council  many  chiefs  will  be  there  to  hear  his 
words  and  weigh  them." 

When  Jacques  had  made  the  best  translation 
possible  of  these  words  and  signified  to  the 
Indian  Gourgues's  acceptance  of  the  invitation, 
Olotoraca,  with  a  brief  "  It  is  well,"  departed 
from  the  cabin.  Bearing  himself  like  a  potentate 
he  made  his  way  to  the  vessel's  side.  Here 


The  Sword  of  Justice  221 

it  was  intimated  to  him  that  he  would  be  rowed 
ashore  by  the  French  sailors  who  waited  there 
for  this  purpose,  but  to  this  he  gave  a  decided 
negative.  Springing  lightly  on  the  taffrail,  his 
symmetrical  body  described  the  perfect  arc  of  a 
circle  in  the  air,  and  the  water  closed  over  him 
softly  and  held  him  so  long  that  some  of  the 
watchers  thought  him  drowned.  Then,  far  out 
on  the  blue  surface  of  the  stream,  his  head  rose. 
Shaking  the  drops  from  his  eyes,  he  struck  out 
with  long  graceful  strokes,  which  sent  his 
straight  body  forward  as  he  would  send  an 
arrow  from  his  bow. 


222  The  Sword  of  Justice 


CHAPTER  XX 

EARLY  in  the  morning  of  the  next  day  a  great 
stir  of  preparation  was  going  forward,  both  on 
the  shore  and  in  the  French  vessels.  The  sun 
was  scarcely  two  hours  high  when  Gourgues 
went  over  the  side,  together  with  about  forty 
arquebusiers  bearing  their  weapons,  with  match 
cords  burning.  When  he  reached  the  shore  a 
concourse  of  savages  waited  him.  No  sooner, 
however,  had  the  French  beached  their  boats  and 
stepped  on  land,  than  like  a  fog  before  a  fresh- 
ening breeze,  the  Indian  forces  melted  away 
into  the  forest,  where  they  lurked  in  the  under- 
brush or  concealed  themselves  behind  the  shel- 
tering trees. 

Gourgues  paused,  nonplussed  at  this  sudden 
move,  which  would  seem  to  indicate  hostility. 
The  soldiers  began  fingering  their  weapons 
uneasily.  It  was  a  critical  moment.  Each 
party  distrusted  the  other,  and  the  slightest 
hostile  act  from  either  side  would  have  precipi- 
tated a  bloody  fight  and  changed  the  whole 
course  of  after  events. 

Fortunately  for  all  concerned,  while  the 
French  stood  irresolute,  scarcely  knowing  what 


The  Sword  of  Justice  223 

to  expect  or  how  to  act,  the  tall  form  of  Olotor- 
aca  came  from  the  woods.  Advancing  alone, 
he  stood  within  ten  feet  of  the  French. 

"The  great  chief  Satouriona  sends  you  this 
talk.  Why  do  the  people  of  the  wooden  vessels 
carry  their  long  sticks  which  speak  fire,  if  they 
come  in  friendship  and  desire  to  be  our  allies?" 
he  demanded,  pointing  to  the  weapons  of  the 
soldiers.  Jacques  made  shift  to  interpret  the 
gist  of  this  speech  and  to  return  the  answer, 
which,  though  not  flowing,  was  sufficiently  in- 
telligible to  the  quick  perception  of  the  Indian. 

"  Say  to  your  chief  that  the  French  come 
armed  because  the  Indians  who  wait  to  receive 
them,  bear  arms  as  well,"  and  he  in  his  turn 
pointed  to  the  bow  which  Olotoraca  carried  in 
his  left  hand. 

With  a  grunt  of  approval  the  young  Indian 
disappeared  into  the  woods  again,  and  the  French 
waited  with  more  or  less  patience  for  the  next 
move. 

After  what  seemed  a  very  long  time  to  them, 
there  issued  from  the  forest  four  young  Indians 
bearing  between  them,  on  a  huge  skin,  a  great 
pile  of  bows  heaped  up  until  they  presented 
the  appearance  of  a  loosely  woven  basket. 
These  they  brought  and  laid  at  the  feet  of 
Gourgues  and  stood  back  to  wait  his  action. 

Seeing  by  this  act  of  disarmament  that  the 
Indians  offered  a  pledge  of  good  faith  the 
French  captain  commanded  his  soldiers  to  put 


224  The  Sword  of  Justice 

out  their  match  cords  and  cast  their  arquebuses 
on  the  pile  of  bows. 

When  this  was  done  Satouriona  came  himself 
to  meet  his  new  ally,  and  taking  him  by  the 
hand  led  him  into  the  forest  where  several  of  the 
old  Indians  were  busy  clearing  out  the  under- 
brush and  forming  an  open  space  wherein  to 
hold  council.  Two  seats  had  already  been  pre- 
pared of  logs  covered  with  Spanish  moss,  and 
here  Satouriona  seated  his  guest  in  state. 

Then  taking  Pierre  by  the  hand  he  led  him 
to  Gourgues  and  began  an  impassioned  narra- 
tive of  how  the  lad  had  been  saved  from  the 
massacre  and  guarded  in  the  lodges  of  the 
Indians,  of  how  the  Spanish  had  sought  to  buy 
him  and  failing  in  this  had  captured  him,  of 
how  the  Indians  had  kept  the  youth  for  his 
friends  and  now  returned  him  to  them.  All 
this  Pierre  translated  for  the  chief  as  the  Indian 
talked. 

Gourgues's  eyes  roved  curiously  over  the  boy. 
He  was  struck  with  wonder  to  see  how  entirely 
an  Indian  he  seemed  from  his  black  hair-lock, 
decorated  with  its  feathered  crest,  down  to  his 
softly  stepping  moccasined  feet.  The  magnifi- 
cent development  of  the  bare  brown  body 
called  forth  an  involuntary  expression  of  ad- 
miration, for  what  man  does  not  love  thews 
and  sinews? 

When  Satouriona  had  finished  speaking, 
Gourgues  gave  over  his  scrutiny  of  the  youth, 


The  Sword  of  Justice  225 

and  demanded,  "  By  what  name  are  you 
known  ?  " 

"  These,  my  Indian  brothers,  call  me  '  Che- 
pane,'  which  signifies  only  '  a  boy,'  for  when  I  was 
first  come  among  them  my  mind  was  sleeping, 
and  I  knew  not  my  own  name  nor  whence  I  came. 
After,  my  thoughts  of  the  past  woke  again,  and 
I  knew  myself  a  Frenchman,  Debr6  by  name." 

"  Say  you  so,"  exclaimed  Gourgues,  excitedly, 
"Pierre  Debre?" 

"  Yes,  Monsieur  le  Chevalier,  but  how  know 
you  it?" 

"  I  have  a  commission  to  fetch  you  home  to 
France,  and  the  Chevalier  Debre*  your  father 
and  your  mother.  Your  uncle,  Pierre  de 
Rengard,  who  has  but  lately  come  into  his 
estates  —  his  father  having  lived  to  a  great 
age  and  kept  him  in  leading  as  if  he  were 
but  a  boy  —  gave  me  a  sum  of  money  for 
this  expedition  to  New  France  upon  my 
agreeing  to  seek  out  his  sister  and  her  child 
or  at  least  bring  him  certain  news  of  her.  It 
is  happy  fortune  thus  to  find  you  at  the  out- 
set. And  thy  father  and  mother,  how  has  it 
fared  with  them?" 

Pierre's  mouth  straightened,  his  jaws  set,  and 
in  his  eyes  came  a  look  which  plainly  spoke  of 
the  long  score  which  he  had  to  settle  with  his 
enemies.  "  My  father  was  massacred  on  the 
island  near  San  Augustine,  together  with  Jean 
Ribaut  and  his  men.  My  mother  —  is  dead," 


226  The  Sword  of  Justice 

he  replied  in  a  voice  whose  level  tone  told  of 
his  restrained  emotion. 

Gourgues's  eyes  took  fire  on  the  instant. 
''  Wait."  As  he  uttered  the  word  it  was  heavy 
with  meaning.  "  The  wounded  honor  of  my 
country  shall  not  always  bleed.  Wait." 

The  eyes  of  the  two  men  met  an  instant  and 
exchanged  their  burden  of  hate.  Gourgues 
broke  the  spell,  "At  least  I  shall  be  able  to 
restore  you  to  your  kinsmen." 

His  companion  shook  his  head  doubtfully, 
"  Of  that  I  know  not.  If  we  take  the  Spanish 
Fort,  well  and  good,  I  go  with  you  gladly,  if 
not,  here  I  remain,  for  in  the  Fort  is  a  French 
girl  dearer  to  me  than  life." 

Again  the  fierce  light  of  determination  burned 
on  Gourgues's  face.  "If! — I  know  not  the 
meaning  of  the  word.  You  have  doubtless 
learned  it  here  with  the  Indians." 

Pierre's  face  flushed  darkly  under  his  browned 
skin  at  this  taunt.  Despite  this  he  held  him- 
self with  perfect  calm  as  one  who,  being 
assured  of  his  own  courage,  little  fears  another's 
thought. 

"  Nevertheless  I  say  '  if.'  The  Chevalier 
knows  not  so  well  as  I  those  things  which  he 
must  first  overcome.  The  Fort  is  strong;  it  is 
well  guarded  and  garrisoned  with  a  great  force 
of  Spaniards  who  are  provisioned  for  months. 
Besides  their  arquebuses,  they  have  culverines 
which  will  mow  down  your  advancing  men,  who 


The  Sword  of  Justice  227 

on  their  part  will  not  be  able  to  return  a  shot  at 
their  enemies.  'T  is  an  unequal  game  that  we 
must  play,  and  the  advantage  lies  all  with  our 
enemies,"  persisted  Pierre. 

"  Notwithstanding  all  this,  and  if  their  force 
was  double,  I  say  we  will  take  the  Fort.  Their 
evil  deeds  righting  against  them  and  with  us, 
will  turn  them  craven  even  in  that  defended 
spot,"  answered  the  intrepid  captain. 

Seeing  now  that  the  place  had  been  cleared 
and  the  Indians  were  assembled  for  the  council, 
Gourgues  bade  Pierre  stand  near  him  and  act 
as  interpreter. 

In  the  form  of  an  ellipse  the  Indians  had 
stationed  themselves,  row  on  row  behind  each 
other,  some  sitting,  some  crouching,  some 
standing,  all  in  festal  array,  waiting  motion- 
less except  for  their  restless  eager  eyes. 

When  a  fresh  pipe  had  been  filled  and  brought 
to  Satouriona,  he  lighted  it  and  drawing  a  few 
long  whiffs  passed  it  to  Gourgues.  He  having 
received  it,  likewise  inhaled  and  exhaled  a  few 
times,  and  taking  it  slowly  from  between  his 
lips  was  about  to  begin  an  address  to  the 
council,  when  the  Indian,  forestalling  him,  rose 
from  his  seat  and  began: 

"Welcome  to  our  brothers  from  over  the 
great  waters  whose  hearts  are  white,  even  as 
their  faces.  Many  moons  have  we  longed  for 
you  and  groaned  and  sorrowed  because  you 
came  not.  Since  the  coming  of  the  people 


228  T lie  Sword  of  Justice 

with  black  hearts  the  land  has  known  no 
peace.  They  have  destroyed  our  villages, 
killed  our  warriors,  stolen  our  corn,  ravished 
our  wives  and  daughters.  The  land  is  laid 
waste.  Thus  have  they  served  us  because  we 
loved  them  not,  but  love  the  French  and  were 
friends  to  them." 

"  I  thank  the  great  chief  Satouriona  for  the 
love  he  bears  toward  my  people,  and  my  heart 
lies  heavy  at  thought  of  all  that  he  has  suffered 
because  of  this  love.  As  for  these  people  of 
the  black  hearts,  the  hour  of  reckoning  is  at 
hand  for  them.  If  the  Indians  have  been 
abused  because  of  their  love  for  the  French, 
then  the  French  will  be  their  avengers." 

"  Will  you  then  fight  against  the  Spaniards 
even  as  it  was  told  to  us  yesterday  by  your 
messenger?"  cried  Satouriona  in  joy. 

"  I  came  here,"  replied  Gourgues  cautiously, 
"  only  to  reconnoitre  the  country  and  make 
friends  with  you,  then  to  go  back  and  bring 
more  soldiers;  but  when  I  hear  what  you  are 
suffering  from  the  Spaniards,  my  heart  burns, 
and  I  wish  to  fall  upon  them  this  day  and  res- 
cue you  from  their  tyranny." 

Upon  this  a  clamor  of  joy  arose  from  among 
the  Indians,  who  sprang  up,  stamped  the  earth 
with  their  feet,  and  broke  into  fierce  war-whoops 
at  the  thought  of  so  soon  encountering  their 
enemies. 

"  But,"  pursued  Gourgues,  when  the  clamor 


The  Sword  of  Justice  229 

had  abated,  "  you  will  do  your  part  also,  you 
will  not  leave  all  the  honor  to  us?" 

"  We  will  go  and  die  with  you  if  need  be," 
replied  the  chief  solemnly. 

"This  thing  that  we  would  do  must  be  done 
at  once.  How  soon  can  your  warriors  be  ready 
to  march?" 

After  some  consultation,  Satouriona  agreed  to 
muster  all  his  forces  for  the  campaign  in  three 
days'  time.  Then  the  Indians  received  of  Gour- 
gues  gifts  of  knives,  mirrors,  hatchets,  bells,  and 
beads,  the  grim  warriors  crowding  up  for  these 
toys  and  trinkets  with  eager  faces  and  out- 
stretched hands.  • 

Gourgues  received  at  the  hands  of  Satouriona 
his  son  Athore,  and  his  favorite  squaw,  to  be 
held  as  hostages  of  the  good  faith  of  the  In- 
dians: then  the  council  broke  up,  the  French 
returning  to  their  ships,  and  the  Indians  to  the 
preparation  for  battle. 

Three  days  later  the  banks  of  the  Tacatacou- 
rou  River  thronged  with  Indians,  who  during  the 
night  and  in  the  early  morning  came  silently 
through  the  woods  to  the  meeting  place.  They 
were  naked  except  for  the  aziam  and  the  belt 
which  held  it  and  their  brown  bodies  glistened 
like  polished  bronze.  Many  of  them  were  elab- 
orately tattooed  on  the  arms  and  breast ;  all 
were  painted  and  decked  in  their  finest  braveries 
of  bear's-claw  collars  and  feathered  head-dress. 


230  The  Sword  of  Justice 

Beside  his  weapons,  each  man  bore  a  bag  of 
parched  corn,  his  only  food  for  the  journey. 

During  these  three  days  the  French  had 
made  their  preparations  as  well,  and  now 
waited  with  much  impatience  the  coming  of 
their  allies.  The  day  having  dawned,  Gourgues 
greatly  desired  to  set  forward  at  once.  From 
Pierre  he  learned  that  this  was  not  to  be,  and 
that  the  combined  forces  would  not  move  until 
certain  religious  ceremonies  had  been  observed 
by  the  Indians :  after  which  there  would  be  the 
taking  of  the  black  drink,  in  which  Gourgues 
himself  was  expected  to  bear  a  part. 

In  these  three  days  Pierre  had  been  much  on 
board  the  French  ships,  where  he  had  spent 
long  hours  in  conversation  with  the  Chevalier, 
informing  him  minutely  of  all  that  he  knew  in 
regard  to  the  Spanish  Fort,  which  he  roughly 
sketched  for  his  benefit.  Beside  this  he  gave 
him  much  valuable  information  in  regard  to  the 
character  and  customs  of  the  Indians  with  whom 
he  had  to  deal.  It  was  during  one  of  these 
talks  that  the  young  Frenchman  had  impressed 
upon  Gourgues  not  only  the  necessity  of  his 
taking  part  in  the  ceremony  of  the  black  drink,1 
but  of  his  appearing,  at  least,  to  drink  deeply  of 
the  nauseous  stuff,  since  his  influence  over  the 
Indians  might  be  largely  dependent  upon  it. 

1  Creeks  believe  that  the  black  drink  (Uupontea)  purifies 
them  from  sin,  and  renders  them  invincible  in  battle.  A  great 
man  is  rated  by  his  capacity  to  hold  black  drink.—  SCHOOLCRAFT. 


The  Sword  of  Justice  231 

Between  them  they  had  laid  a  plan  by  which 
they  hoped  to  deceive  the  simple  minds  of  the 
savages,  and  it  was  with  more  or  less  nervous 
expectancy  that  the  two  conspirators  looked  for- 
ward to  their  little  ordeal. 

At  about  noon,  Gourgues  was  summoned  to 
bear  his  part  in  this  solemn  ceremony.  He 
found  the  Indians  already  assembled  on  the 
ground,  where  three  days  before  the  council 
had  been  held.  Now  as  then  he  was  led  to  a 
seat  some  distance  apart  from  and  facing  the 
rows  upon  rows  of  seated  Indians,  whose  dark 
heads  and  moving  feathers  could  now  be  seen 
in  solid  array  extending  back  into  the  forest. 
Here  also  was  seated  Satouriona,  and  on  his 
other  side  the  next  most  powerful  chief,  Taca- 
tacourou.  Gourgues  glanced  around  uneasily, 
looking  for  Pierre,  whom  he  saw  at  this  moment 
advancing  into  the  open  space  together  with 
two  of  the  young  braves.  Each  bore  in  his 
hand  a  large  calabash,  or  drinking  gourd. 
These  they  dipped  into  the  great  wooden 
tubs,  hewn  from  solid  tree  trunks,  which  held 
the  black  drink  ready  for  the  tribe. 

The  Indians  waited  in  absolute  silence,  in- 
tently watching  the  three  figures  who  having 
advanced  to  within  ten  feet  of  the  three  wait- 
ing chiefs,  paused.  Pierre  had  so  manoeuvred 
that  he  faced  his  countryman,  and  would,  of 
course,  be  the  one  to  offer  him  the  black  drink. 
The  three  upright  figures  stood  motionless  for 


232  The  Sword  of  Justice 

an  instant,  holding  the  dripping  gourds,  then, 
as  with  one  mouth  they  uttered  the  single  word 
'  choh.'  It  was  the  note  of  warning  to  an- 
nounce their  readiness ;  throwing  the  body  for- 
ward the  three  lithe  young  figures  dashed  up  to 
the  waiting  chiefs  and  presented  to  each  a  brim- 
ming gourd.  As  swiftly  they  fell  back  and  ad- 
justed themselves  ready  to  give  the  'yohullah' 
or  '  black  drink  note.'  Here  it  was  that  Pierre 
succeeded  in  the  first  part  of  his  manoeuvre,  for 
in  stepping  back,  he  took  care  not  to  retreat  as  far 
as  the  custom  was,  also  to  stand  in  such  a  manner 
as  to  cut  off  as  far  as  possible,  the  view  of  his 
countryman. 

The  three  chiefs  waited  with  gourds  raised ; 
the  instant  that  the  attendants  began  to  as- 
pirate the  black  drink  note,  each  gourd  was 
placed  to  the  lips  of  the  chief  who  held  it,  and 
the  drinking  began,  — to  last  through  all  the  time 
that  these  strong  young  lungs  could  sustain  that 
cry  at  full  sound,  and  while  they  prolonged  it 
softly  as  they  did  after,  with  almost  spent  breath, 
until  their  lungs  were  completely  empty. 

Gourgues  had  seized  his  gourd  in  both  hands, 
and  was  managing  to  make  his  awkwardly  up- 
raised arms  cover  as  much  of  his  face  as  pos- 
sible, while  he  dexterously  poured  the  contents 
of  the  calabash  under  his  corselet  of  steel, 
under  his  doublet,  and  shirt,  and  felt  the 
clammy  stream  trickle  coldly  down  his  body 
and  diffuse  itself  around  his  person.  He  sue- 


The  Sword  of  Justice  233 

ceeded  in  storing  away  the  entire  contents  of 
his  calabash  some  time  before  that  long  sus- 
tained note  gave  him  leave  to  pause ;  he  then 
dropped  his  left  arm,  and  holding  the  empty 
vessels  to  his  lips  continued  to  swallow  with 
steady,  regular  gulps,  which  would  have  well 
deceived  any  one  who  watched  him.  When  at 
length  the  seemingly  never-ending  note  ceased, 
and  the  young  men  received  the  gourds  again. 
Pierre  turned  to  the  seated  multitude  and  in- 
verted the  calabash  which  he  held  and  from 
which  not  a  drop  trickled  down  to  the  earth. 
Seeing  this,  he  exclaimed  dramatically,  "  Be- 
hold !  we  have  done  well  to  follow  this  man. 
He  is  a  great  chief." 

Gourgues  sitting  in  clammy  discomfort,  his 
wet  clothing  adhering  to  his  skin  was  well 
pleased  at  the  result  of  their  harmlesss  ruse 
when  he  saw  the  look  of  wonder  on  the  faces  of 
the  Indians.  A  murmuring  wave  of  approval 
passed  over  the  assembly,  who  quickly  settled 
to  silence  again  as  the  newly  filled  gourds  were 
offered  to  the  next  in  rank,  but  now  only  with 
the  warning  '  choh,'  for  the  black  drink  note  is 
not  sounded  except  for  the  three  greatest  chiefs. 

It  was  toward  evening  before  the  Indians 
filed  off  into  the  forest  and  took  up  their  march 
toward  the  Spanish  Fort. 

Gourgues  and  his  men,  having  left  behind 
twenty  sailors  under  Francois  Bourdelais  to 
guard  the  ship,  pushed  their  boats  from  the 


234  T/ie  Sword  of  Justice 

shore  intending  to  make  their  way  by  water  to 
the  spot  where  they  were  to  rejoin  their  allies. 

All  night  long  the  rowers  bent  to  their  task 
in  silent  determination.  All  night  the  shores 
flitted  by  in  ghostly  panorama  under  the 
white  moonlight  which  half  revealed  and  half 
concealed  the  surroundings,  while  the  pine  trees 
in  the  forest  near  by  kept  up  their  everlasting 
murmur. 

In  the  morning  the  French  landed  —  prob- 
ably at  the  mouth  of  the  Nassau  River.  Here 
they  found  some  of  the  Indians  waiting  them, 
the  others  having  already  pressed  on.  After  a 
hard  day's  march,  now  through  swamps,  now 
through  brambly  thickets,  at  five  in  the  after- 
noon they  reached  a  spot  not  far  from  the  first 
Fort.  Here  they  paused  for  rest  and  food.  In 
a  few  hours  Gourgues,  who  wished  to  be  in 
readiness  for  an  early  morning  attack,  and  who 
in  spite  of  fatigue  could  not  remain  quiet,  again 
ordered  the  soldiers  to  march. 


The  Sword  of  Justice  235 


CHAPTER  XXI 

AT  dawn  the  next  day  the  French  and  Indian 
forces  were  drawn  up  on  the  bank  of  the  stream, 
beyond  which  and  very  near,  lay  the  first  of  the 
Spanish  forts  which  guarded  the  mouth  of  the 
St.  John's  River.  The  light  was  just  beginning 
to  break,  and  its  grayness  revealed  the  moving 
figures  of  the  men  who  seemed  to  flit  here  and 
there  like  shadows. 

Gourgues  stood  apart  conferring  with  his  lieu- 
tenant, Casanove.  Though  the  darkness  covered 
the  deep  frown  on  the  leader's  brow,  it  could 
not  conceal  the  almost  ungovernable  impatience 
in  his  tone. 

"  The  devil  himself  seems  to  fight  with  these 
favorite  sons  of  his  and  to  lay  obstacles  in  our 
path.  How  long  do  the  Indians  say  we  must 
wait  before  the  tide  is  out  so  that  we  may  cross?  " 

"  At  least  two  hours,  my  captain." 

"Then  bid  the  men  fall  back  and  conceal 
themselves  in  the  forest,  for  I  would  not  have 
them  seen  when  the  light  is  fairly  come.  A 
curse  on  this  sluggish  water  that  stretches  itself 
between  me  and  my  enemies.  Had  it  not  been 
for  the  slow  moving  tide,  I  had  been  able  to  fall 


2  36  The  Sword  of  Justice 

on  them  sleeping,  and  cut  them  off  from  the 
living  ere  they  had  time  to  send  up  a  prayer 
for  mercy  on  their  guilty  souls."  So  saying  he 
turned  from  Casanove  and  began  an  impatient 
tramp  up  and  down  the  bank,  while  in  the 
gloom  he  heard  the  low  distinct  command  of 
his  subordinate,  followed  by  the  rattle  of  pikes 
and  arquebuses  and  the  muffled  sound  of  hurry- 
ing feet  He  could  mark  the  way  of  the  arque- 
busiers  by  the  points  of  light  from  their  burning 
match  cords.  As  they  filed  into  the  forest, 
they  had  the  appearance  of  a  procession  of 
glow  worms.  Then  upon  his  cheek  Gourgues 
felt  the  first  heavy  drops  that  are  the  forerunners 
of  the  spring  rains  which  in  this  latitude  come 
so  suddenly,  and  descend  upon  the  earth  like  an 
unbroken  sheet  of  water. 

The  Frenchman  muttered  a  few  more  curses 
under  his  breath.  In  fact,  his  impatience 
seemed  to  have  reached  a  point  where  it  would 
be  none  the  worse  for  the  cooling  effect  of  a 
good  shower.  This  was  not  slow  in  coming, 
and  back  in  the  forest  the  men  huddled  under 
the  shelter  of  the  spreading  pines  which  afforded 
little  protection  against  the  sheet  of  water 
which  poured  upon  them  from  the  leaden  sky. 
Besides  being  wet  and  uncomfortable,  they  had 
much  ado  to  keep  their  match  cords  burning,  and 
only  accomplished  it  by  allowing  their  heads  to 
go  shelterless,  while  they  used  their  morions  as  a 
cover  for  the  flickering  and  nearly  dying  lights. 


The  Sword  of  Justice  237 

The  Indians,  more  used  to  the  elements,  and 
less  hampered  by  clothing,  let  the  rain  beat 
down  on  their  bare  bodies  in  perfect  uncon- 
cern; and  except  that  the  trickling  streams  of 
water  blurred  and  mixed  the  fiercely  streaked 
paints  on  their  faces,  giving  them  an  appear- 
ance less  savage  and  more  grotesque,  they 
suffered  no  inconvenience. 

In  the  fast  growing  light,  Gourgues,  unmind- 
ful of  his  drenched  clothing  and  the  little  rills 
of  water  which  dripped  from  his  morion  and 
ran  down  his  back  under  his  heavy  armor,  still 
stood  on  the  banks  of  the  stream  half-concealed 
in  the  bushes,  from  which  vantage  ground  he 
could  plainly  see  the  Fort,  whose  defences  —  he 
noted  with  joy  —  seemed  slight  and  unfinished. 

At  length  the  showers  ceased  and  the  impa- 
tient watcher  on  the  bank  saw  a  little  uncovered 
line  of  wet  earth  on  the  far  shore,  which  told 
him  that  at  last  the  tide  was  receding.  An 
hour  dragged  itself  away  before  the  water  had 
fallen  so  that  the  stream  was  fordable.  Then, 
a  little  higher  up  from  behind  the  sheltering 
screen  of  a  clump  of  trees,  the  passage  was 
begun. 

Each  soldier  tied  his  powder-flask  to  his 
morion  and  holding  his  arquebuse  above  his 
head,  plunged  into  the  stream,  the  bed  of  which 
was  a  mass  of  racoon  oysters  whose  sharp 
shells,  standing  edgewise,  offered  a  pathway  of 
knives  to  their  feet. 


238  The  Sword  of  Justice 

Nothing  daunted,  they  pushed  on,  reaching 
the  other  bank  lacerated  and  bleeding,  but  so 
fierce  to  be  at  their  foes  that  they  were  scarcely 
aware  of  their  injuries.  After  them  came  the 
horde  of  savages,  silent  and  eager. 

Under  the  cover  of  the  trees  the  men  formed 
for  the  charge.  For  an  instant  Gourgues  stood 
before  them,  his  eyes  kindling,  his  whole  mel- 
ancholy face  lit  with  a  fierce  eagerness.  In  a 
hushed  tone  he  spoke  to  the  men.  "  Look," 
he  said,  pointing  toward  the  half-concealed  fort, 
"  there  are  the  robbers  who  have  taken  this 
land  from  our  king;  there  are  the  murderers 
who  butchered  our  countrymen." 

A  half  suppressed  sound  swept  over  the 
ranks,  an  ugly  sound  to  hear  from  human 
throats,  for  it  is  but  the  angry  growl  of  the 
bloodthirsting  wild  beast  which  lies  sleeping 
but  not  dead  in  the  breast  of  every  man,  civil- 
ize him  as  you  may.  Above  this  inarticulate 
growl,  here  and  there  a  sharp  sentence  pierced 
the  air,  "Lead  us  on,"  "Let  us  at  them," 
"  God !  but  there  shall  not  live  one  of  them  to 
tell  the  tale  of  this  day." 

"Forward,  then,  my  men,"  the  longed-for 
command  sounded  at  last,  "  and  remember,  you 
strike  this  day  for  the  bleeding  honor  of 
France." 

"  For  France !  "  was  the  suppressed  exclama- 
tion, as  with  eager  step  the  soldiers  swung  out 
behind  their  leader. 


The  Sword  of  Justice  239 

Casanove  with  thirty  men  made  for  the  fort 
gate;  Gourgues, — -with  Olotoraca  at  his  side 
armed  with  a  French  pike,  —  and  the  main 
body  of  the  troops  pushed  for  the  glacis. 

A  few  minutes  brought  them  in  full  sight 
of  the  fort,  and  of  a  solitary  cannonier  on  the 
rampart.  His  voice  giving  the  alarm  sent  the 
startled  inmates  flying  hither  and  thither  in  a 
vain  effort  at  defence. 

"  To  arms !  To  arms !  The  French  are  com- 
ing !  The  French  are  coming !  "  the  terrifying 
cry  sounded,  while  the  Spaniard,  his  quickness 
of  thought  not  quite  paralyzed  by  fear,  loaded 
the  cannon  and  fired  at  the  unbroken  rank  that 
came  on,  weapons  at  charge.  In  his  eager- 
ness and  hurry  he  overshot  his  mark.  He  was 
preparing  for  a  second  shot,  and  the  advancing 
line  showed  now  a  little  less  steadiness,  a  little 
wavering  before  the  close  proximity  of  that 
black-throated  instrument  of  death.  In  that 
instant  Olotoraca  bounded  up  the  glacis,  leaped 
the  ditch  like  a  deer,  and  drove  his  pike  through 
and  through  the  Spaniard  from  breast  to  back. 

A  tremendous  shout  burst  from  the  French. 
The  line  broke,  the  men  surged  forward,  shout- 
ing, cursing,  yelling,  followed  by  the  Indians, 
pell-mell.  Just  then  a  cry  from  Casanove  rent 
the  air,  "  Gascons  to  the  rescue,  Gascons  to  the 
rescue,"  and  Gourgues,  turning,  led  most  of  his 
men  at  a  run  toward  the  spot  where  the  panic- 
stricken  Spaniards  were  leaping  the  ditches  and 


240  The  Sword  of  Justice 

fleeing  like  sheep  from  the  shambles.  Caught 
now  between  two  divisions  of  the  French,  with 
an  oncoming  horde  of  savages  to  cut  off  any 
chance  straggler,  not  a  man  escaped. 

Meanwhile  the  occupants  of  the  Fort  on  the 
opposite  bank  of  the  river,  roused  by  the  sound 
of  the  cannon  and  the  shout  of  victor  and  van- 
quished, had  rallied  their  forces  and  began  to 
pour  on  the  French  a  galling  fire  from  their 
culverines. 

Four  of  the  captured  guns  were  quickly  trained 
against  them  by  the  French,  but  Gourgues  fear- 
ing that  the  Spaniards  might  take  to  the  forest 
and  so  escape  him,  determined  to  push  on. 
With  eighty  of  his  men  he  entered  a  large  boat 
which  had  been  brought  along  for  the  purpose, 
and  pushed  off  for  the  farther  bank,  promising 
to  send  the  boat  back  for  the  Indians.  They, 
however,  refused  to  wait  for  this  slow  method 
of  convoy.  Leaping  into  the  water,  each  man 
held  his  bow  aloft  in  one  hand,  while  he  swam 
with  the  other. 

On  seeing  the  river  alive  with  the  heads  of 
this  savage  multitude,  the  Spaniards  became 
panic-stricken  and  left  the  fort,  fleeing  in  every 
direction.  But  the  French  had  already  landed. 
Throwing  themselves  in  the  path  of  the  fugi- 
tives, they  met  them  with  a  rain  of  bullets. 
For  an  instant  they  recoiled,  then  the  shouts  of 
the  oncoming  Indians  sounded  in  their  ear,  and 
they  knew  that  death  stood  before  and  behind. 


The  Sword  of  Justice  241 


CHAPTER  XXII 

THAT  night  saw  the  French  in  possession  of 
the  two  forts  at  the  mouth  of  the  St.  John's, 
and  here  at  last  the  soldiers  found  rest  and 
food.  Heavy  slumber  locked  the  senses  of 
all  except  the  guards,  who  tramped  the  dark 
hours  through,  half  dead  for  want  of  sleep. 
Without  the  fort,  in  the  nearby  forest,  the 
Indians  bivouacked.  So  fierce  was  their  joy 
over  the  swift  downfall  of  their  enemies,  that 
all  the  night  through  their  fires  blazed,  and 
the  cough  and  rumble  of  the  tawaiegons,  the 
wild,  fierce  whoops  which  waked  the  silent 
echoes  of  the  woods,  told  of  the  savage  scalp 
dance  going  forward. 

The  next  day  being  Sunday,  the  French 
contented  themselves  with  further  rest  and 
some  preparation  for  the  assault  on  San  Mateo. 
Monday  morning  early  found  Gourgues  and 
his  men  pushing  through  the  woods,  about  to 
write  with  their  swords  the  last  chapter  in 
the  bloody  tale  which  had  known  its  beginning 
two  years  and  a  half  earlier.  Easter  had  but 
lately  passed,  and  the  earth  was  in  its  resurrec- 
tion dress  of  flowers  and  green,  while  every 
16 


242  The  Sword  of  Justice 

breath  brought  warm  resinous  odors  from  the 
pine  forest.  The  breeze  from  the  water  was 
as  soft  as  a  salt  kiss,  and  had  no  power  to 
sting  the  blood  to  the  cheeks.  Peace  seemed 
to  have  spread  her  brooding  wings  over  the 
land.  Only  the  slow  circling  of  the  still  gather- 
ing vultures,  or  the  noisy  wing  flapping  of  a 
departing  bird  whose  heavy  movements  spoke 
satiety,  told  of  the  awful  carnage  of  two  days 
ago. 

Already  the  Indian  allies  had  been  sent  for- 
ward and  were  now  ambushed  on  the  east  and 
west  of  the  doomed  Fort.  The  excited  and 
restless  savages  had  kept  so  strict  a  watch 
about  San  Mateo  for  the  past  two  days  that 
the  Spanish  had  not  been  able  to  venture 
forth.  In  desperation  one  of  them,  disguised 
as  an  Indian,  did  succeed  in  penetrating  the 
French  lines,  to  be  promptly  detected,  cap- 
tured, and  brought  before  Gourgues,  who 
learned  from  him  that  the  Spanish  were  two 
hundred  and  sixty  strong,  and  believed  their 
enemies  to  have  two  thousand  men  besides  the 
Indians.  In  consequence,  abject  fright  had 
seized  upon  them. 

Well  pleased  with  this  news,  Gourgues  deter- 
mined to  push  on  promptly  before  some  un- 
toward circumstance  revealed  to  his  enemies 
the  meagreness  of  their  numbers. 

Pierre,  who  still  kept  his  place  with  the 
Indians,  was  with  the  detachment  which  lay  on 


The  Sword  of  Justice  243 

the  west  side  of  the  Fort,  where  every  shelter- 
ing tree  and  bush  concealed  the  crouching 
figure  of  a  savage. 

To  the  impatient  spirit  of  the  boy,  so  near 
the  goal  of  both  revenge  and  love,  it  seemed 
an  eternity  after  the  coming  of  light  before  he 
heard  the  culverine  in  the  east  bastion  belch 
forth  its  growl  of  defiance  at  the  advancing 
line  of  French.  They  were  marching  in  glitter- 
ing unbroken  rank  down  the  river  bank  when 
they  met  this  first  shot  of  the  Spanish. 

Fortunately  it  missed  its  mark,  and  Gourgues 
was  not  slow  to  seek  the  cover  of  the  forest. 
Here,  in  the  dense  thicket  on  a  slight  hill  over- 
looking the  Fort,  he  was  enabled  to  observe  all 
that  went  forward  and  to  survey  the  whole 
extent  of  their  defences. 

While  the  French  were  watching,  uncertain 
as  to  their  next  move,  they  saw  a  large  party 
of  Spanish  issue  from  the  Fort,  cross  the  ditch, 
and  advance  to  reconnoitre. 

Gourgues  instantly  divided  his  men,  and  sent 
a  detachment  under  Lieutenant  Casanove  to 
station  themselves  at  a  point  well  hidden  by 
trees,  on  the  flank  of  the  enemy. 

With  a  strange  fatality  the  advancing  foe 
seemed  blinded  to  their  wretched  position, 
while  the  French,  already  assured  of  success, 
waited  in  the  thick  undergrowth,  meeting  them 
with  a  deadly  blaze  of  fire  just  as  they  reached 
the  edge  of  the  thicket.  Before  the  smoke  had 


244  The  Sword  of  Justice 

cleared,  the  French,  sword  in  hand,  fell  on  the 
Spanish,  and  Casanove's  detachment  executed 
a  flank  movement  and  cut  off 'their  retreat. 

Those  within  the  Fort,  seeing  the  fate  of  the 
reconnoitring  party  were  instantly  seized  with 
panic.  All  was  consternation :  men  ran  hither 
and  thither,  women  screamed,  and  children 
added  their  shrill  cries  of  terror  to  the  babel. 
The  Fort  gates  were  flung  wide  and  in  a  body 
the  soldiers  dashed  out  toward  the  forest,  in 
an  opposite  direction  from  which  the  French 
were  advancing. 

Suddenly,  before  the  eyes  of  the  fleeing 
wretches,  every  bush  and  every  tree  resolved 
itself  into  a  fierce  plumed  savage,  and  through 
the  whole  universe  sounded  the  blood-curdling 
whoop  of  the  Indians. 

From  the  instant  when  Pierre  had  seen  the 
Fort  gate  thrown  wide  and  the  crowd  of  fright- 
ened fugitives  issue  from  it,  he  seemed  on  a 
sudden  to  be  cast  back  to  that  awful  hour  two 
years  and  a  half  earlier,  when  he  was  not  pur- 
suer, but  pursued.  He  sprang  from  his  place 
of  concealment  even  as  the  Indians  did,  and 
his  voice  may  have  swelled  the  wild  whoop  of 
triumph  that  rent  the  air,  but  his  weapon  struck 
no  blow,  nor  did  his  hands  stay  any  of  the 
fleeing  ones.  Two  thoughts  only  possessed 
his  mind,  to  find  Eugenie,  to  kill  Lavalatte. 
Like  a  deerhound  he  went  leaping  past  the 
flying,  over  the  fallen,  his  objective  point,  the 


The  Sword  of  Justice  245 

Fort.  He  was  not  fifty  paces  from  the  gate, 
when  he  saw  issue  from  it  the  tall  figure  of 
his  enemy,  going,  not  away  from,  but  toward, 
the  oncoming  body  of  French,  who  had  now 
finished  their  bloody  work  and  were  already 
seeking  more.  Lavalatte's  thought  had  been 
to  reach  his  countrymen,  to  speak  to  them  in 
their  own  tongue,  and  claim  their  protection. 
If  he  fell  into  the  hands  of  the  Indians  he  had 
little  to  hope.  In  the  first  place  he  was  unable 
to  make  them  understand  that  he  was  French, 
and  not  Spanish;  in  the  second  place  he  did  not 
know  how  far  Pierre  had  made  them  his  ene- 
mies. So,  for  both  these  reasons,  he  was  mak- 
ing every  bit  of  haste  possible  when  Pierre's 
quick  eyes  spied  him. 

Uttering  the  war  whoop  of  the  Indians,  the 
young  Frenchman  redoubled  his  speed,  while 
Lavalatte,  seeing  a  savage  coming  after  him, 
thinking  him  but  the  advanced  guard,  put  him- 
self to  his  best  speed  and  began  a  race  for  life. 

On  bounded  Lavalatte,  on  leaped  Pierre, 
more  like  a  winged  Mercury  than  a  human  be- 
ing. Now  with  joy,  Philippe  sees  that  a  little 
band  of  French  soldiers  have  observed  his  flee- 
ing figure  and  are  making  toward  him.  If  he 
can  but  reach  them  before  the  Indians  are  upon 
him !  He  strains  every  nerve,  the  distance 
between  him  and  his  goal  vanishes  with  incredi- 
ble swiftness,  he  dares  not  look  about  to  see  if 
his  pursuers  are  gaining,  and  the  oncoming  of 


246  The  Sword  of  Justice 

those  softly  shod  feet  strikes  no  sound  that  can 
be  heard  above  his  own  footfalls,  or  the  noise  of 
his  thudding  heart.  He  has  almost  reached  the 
soldiers,  and  deems  himself  safe,  when,  with  a 
lithe  spring,  Pierre  fairly  leaps  upon  his 
enemy's  back,  and  together  they  fall  headlong, 
rolling  over  and  over,  clutching  each  other 
tightly.  There  is  a  sharp  struggle ;  then,  Lav- 
alatte,  pinioned  to  the  earth  under  a  body  whose 
muscles  were  like  steel,  gazes  up  and  sees,  not 
the  face  of  a  painted  savage,  not  the  face  of 
the  youth  who  is  his  captor,  but  the  face  of 
Amalie  de  Rengard,  who  looks  at  him  now  as 
ever  with  eyes  of  scorn  and  defiance. 

He  grows  ghastly  to  the  very  lips,  and  his 
quick  thudding  heart  seems  to  stop  its  ponder- 
ous beat.  Suffocation,  a  crushing  weight  on 
his  chest,  an  upraised  glittering  knife,  he  dimly 
sees  and  feels  these  things,  yet  the  only  reality 
is  those  scornful  hating  eyes. 

As  for  Pierre,  he  does  not  know  that  the 
French  soldiers  are  upon  him,  he  does  not  at 
first  realize  what  has  happened  when  he  feels 
himself  seized  and  dragged  from  his  enemy,  and 
hears  Gourgues's  voice  angrily  expostulating. 

"  God's  death,  man  !  is  it  not  possible  for  me 
to  save  a  few  of  these  miscreants  alive  that  they 
may  suffer  a  fitter  death?  Let  be,  there,  and 
you  men  bind  this  one  firmly  and  put  him  with 
the  others." 

On  the  instant  that  Pierre  was  plucked  from 


The  Sword  of  Justice  247 

his  enemy,  Lavalatte  found  his  tongue,  and 
began  volubly  protesting  that  he  was  a  French- 
man and  had  done  nothing  to  deserve  death,  — 
that  he  was  but  seeking  safety  with  his  fellow- 
countrymen. 

On  hearing  this,  Gourgues  turned  fiercely 
upon  Pierre.  "  How  now,  man,  account  for  this. 
Have  you  then  dwelt  so  long  among  savages  as 
to  be  unable  to  recognize  your  own  country- 
men?" 

Pierre  standing  back,  glared  with  fierce  eyes 
at  Lavalatte,  and  would  ere  long  have  been 
upon  him  again  had  it  not  been  for  the  detain- 
ing hands  of  the  two  soldiers.  He  raised  one 
shaking  finger  pointing  it  at  his  enemy :  "  Chev- 
alier de  Gourgues,  if,  having  heard  those  things 
which  I  have  to  say  to  you,  you  still  do  claim 
this  man  as  countryman,  then,  rather  than  be 
one  with  him,  I  will  forswear  France." 

"  By  Heaven,  this  hath  the  look  of  a  private 
vengeance,"  exclaimed  the  Chevalier  quickly. 

"  Say  rather  private  justice,"  returned  Pierre 
calmly. 

"Nevertheless  it  cannot  be.  It  wears  too 
much  the  look  of  murder  thus  to  strike  down 
those  of  the  same  blood.  And  yet  your  manner 
impresses  me  as  to  the  righteousness  of  your 
cause.  This  man  shall  be  bound  and  kept  with 
those  for  whom  I  am  reserving  a  choicer  death, 
and  when  time  allows  I  will  hear  of  your  quarrel 
and  judge  between  you." 


248  The  Sword  of  Justice 


CHAPTER   XXIII 

DURING  all  this  time,  while  her  countrymen 
dealt  death  outside  the  Fort,  Eugenie  in  her 
narrow  cell,  waited  with  ungoverned  impatience 
for  her  deliverance. 

Since  the  moment,  two  days  before,  when  one 
of  the  Spanish  soldiers  from  the  first  captured 
fort,  wounded,  and  half  dead  from  fright  and 
loss  of  blood,  had  clamored  for  admittance  at 
the  entrance  of  San  Mateo,  the  inmates  had 
been  in  a  panic.  The  report  that  both  the 
smaller  forts  had  been  taken  and  all  the  inhabi- 
tants put  to  the  sword,  that  the  French  were 
two  thousand  strong,  not  counting  the  Indians, 
who  seemed  an  unnumbered  host,  was  not  cal- 
culated to  give  a  sense  of  security  to  those  with- 
in San  Mateo,  knowing  as  they  did  that  it  would 
be  the  next  point  of  attack. 

While  the  wounded  man  was  unfolding  this 
tale  to  the  Commandant,  a  frightened,  curious 
crowd  were  thronging  the  guard-room,  pushing, 
shoving,  elbowing  each  other  savagely,  to  get  to 
the  front,  those  outside  striving  to  get  into  the 
closely  packed  room,  those  on  the  outskirts 
plucking  at  their  more  fortunate  neighbors  ahead 


The  Sword  of  Justice  249 

with,  "  What  does  he  say  now,"  and  "  For  the 
love  of  the  Virgin,  give  us  his  words."  As  the 
wave  of  terrifying  intelligence  passed  from 
mouth  to  mouth,  it  was  mingled  with  exclama- 
tions of  dismay,  curses  and  prayers  to  the 
Mother  of  God  for  protection  and  deliverance 
from  the  hand  of  heretics. 

Somehow  in  this  crowd  Eugenie  had  edged 
herself  to  the  front  and  stood  looking  down  on 
the  wounded  man,  drinking  in  his  every  word, 
the  only  one  in  that  multitude  to  whom  these 
tidings  brought  no  fright,  but  rather  a  hope  of 
deliverance.  In  her  great  joy  at  thought  of  so 
soon  seeing  her  lover,  any  little  caution  which 
she  might  at  another  time  have  practised  failed 
her,  and  she  stood  with  shining  eyes  and  hope- 
inspired  look. 

Suddenly  she  started,  to  find  the  Command- 
ant's keen  gaze  fixed  upon  her  and  see  his 
accusing  finger  outstretched  toward  her,  while 
his  voice  thundered,  "  Seize  that  French  bag- 
gage and  look  well  to  her.  She  will  be  for 
betraying  us  in  some  fashion  if  we  do  not  have 
a  care.  Away  with  her,  lock  her  in  the  guard- 
house." 

Eugenie,  feeling  herself  roughly  grasped  by 
a  half-dozen  hands,  came  suddenly  to  the  earth 
from  her  dream  of  happiness. 

"Oh,  my  lord,  I  have  done  nothing  amiss; 
do  not  let  them  harm  me,"  she  cried  in  fright, 
but  none  heeded.  In  no  gentle  fashion  she 


250  The  Sword  of  Justice 

was  pushed  and  pulled  through  the  crowd,  who 
gave  way  before  her,  and  cuffed  her  and  spat 
at  her  as  she  passed,  the  women  taking  this 
occasion  to  equalize  matters  a  little,  and  pay 
the  jade  off  for  having  held  the  admiration  of 
every  man  in  the  Fort. 

The  girl  was  in  a  state  of  hysterical  fright 
when  she  was  finally  pushed  into  the  dim  little 
cell  where  Pierre  had  spent  so  many  irksome 
weeks,  and  where  he  had  first  clasped  her  in 
his  arms  and  claimed  her  for  his  own.  When 
the  door  closed  and  the  key  turning  sharply  in 
the  lock  told  her  that  she  had  nothing  to  fear 
for  the  immediate  present,  Eugenie  threw  her- 
self on  the  moss  couch  in  the  corner  of  the  cell. 
Although  she  continued  to  sob  hysterically  for 
a  time,  the  character  of  her  weeping  changed 
in  something,  and  she  could  scarcely  have  told 
herself  whether  she  cried  from  fear,  or  from  a 
sense  of  joyful  relief. 

These  past  weeks  since  her  capture  and  forci- 
ble return  to  the  Spanish  Fort  had  been  very 
heavy  ones  for  the  child.  Not  merely  was  it 
the  separation  from  her  lover,  to  whom  her  heart 
turned  now  with  a  fierce  new  longing,  a  thrilling 
pain  that  seemed  at  times  almost  to  threaten 
life  itself.  "  I  want  him,  I  want  him,  I  want 
him,"  was  her  constant  inarticulate  cry,  when, 
alone  in  the  darkness,  sleep  refused  to  come 
and  only  his  dear  words  and  ways  repeated 
themselves  over  and  over  in  her  memory,  until 


The  Sword  of  Justice  251 

the  pain  of  longing  almost  passed  human. en- 
durance. 

During  this  separation,  perhaps  because  of 
it,  her  love  for  Pierre  had  undergone  a  subtle 
change.  It  had  passed  from  the  love  of  a  child 
into  the  keen  agony  of  loving  which  only  a 
woman  knows.  Perhaps  it  was  in  that  moment 
when,  having  sought  his  protection  from  the 
unkindness  of  the  Indian  women,  he  knelt 
before  her  in  the  light  of  the  setting  sun,  and 
she  dimly  understood  that  for  her  sake  he  fear- 
fully lifted  a  new  burden  and  placed  it  on  his 
untried  youth.  Maybe  it  was  not  until  she  was 
forcibly  torn  from  him,  until  the  rough  brutal- 
ity of  Perez  gave  her  a  sharp  contrast  by  which 
to  measure  Pierre;  when  she  realized  as  she 
shortly  did  from  the  Spaniard's  plain  speech, 
that  she  was  to  be  the  reward  for  her  lover's 
capture ;  then  with  heart  aching  for  its  bereave- 
ment, throbbing  with  fears  for  her  lover's  safety, 
her  soul  and  body  in  revolt  at  the  thought  of 
Perez's  touch,  then,  maybe,  there  leaped  into 
being  that  love  which  is  the  crown  and  glory  of 
life.  Her  cry,  "  I  want  him,  I  want  him,  I  want, 
him,"  was  not  the  cry  for  physical  comfort  or 
needed  protection,  it  was  the  cry  of  a  dismem- 
bered heart  calling  for  its  dearer  part. 

When  the  first  force  of  her  weeping  had 
spent  itself,  she  rested  quietly,  and  hope  began 
to  paint  bright  pictures  for  her.  She  felt 
relieved,  on  the  whole,  at  being  shut  away  from 


252  The  Sword  of  Justice 

everybody,  for  since  her  escape  and  capture 
she  had  had  to  bear  not  only  suspicion  and 
watching,  but  hard  words  and  some  buffeting; 
besides  being  nightly  locked  in  her  room  lest 
she  make  a  second  escape.  Her  greatest  trial, 
and  the  one  from  which  she  rejoiced  most  to  be 
free,  was  the  presence  of  Fernando  Perez,  whose 
determined,  possessive  love-making  was  so  re- 
pulsive to  her.  Once  in  a  fit  of  rage  she  had 
told  him  of  her  hatred,  and  flaunted  her  love 
for  Pierre  in  his  face,  to  be  met  with  an  evil 
laugh  and  the  assurance  that  he  could  hold  his 
own  against  a  dead  man,  and  that  her  lover 
was  likely  to  be  when  he,  Perez,  came  to  wive. 

For  all  these  reasons  Eugenie  was  not  sorry 
to  lie  alone  in  the  little  cell,  endeared  to  her  as 
it  was  by  many  memories.  The  first  day  passed 
away  and  no  one  came  to  molest  her;  it  was 
almost  nightfall  before  any  one  so  far  remem- 
bered her  existence  as  to  bring  her  food,  and 
long  before  this,  hunger  was  gnawing  sharply  at 
her  vitals,  doing  much  to  reduce  her  hopeful 
spirit.  When  the  food  was  brought,  it  was 
only  thrust  hastily  within  the  cell  and  the  door 
closed  and  locked  without  a  word. 

During  all  this  time  the  lonely  little  prisoner 
could  distinguish  from  the  sounds  without  on 
the  parade,  that  the  Fort  was  in  a  state  of  excite- 
ment and  activity.  She  could  hear  the  clank 
and  rattle  of  armor  as  at  regular  intervals 
through  the  day  and  night  the  guard  was 


The  Sword  of  Justice  253 

relieved.  She  guessed  from  other  noises,  that 
the  Spanish  were  busily  at  work  repairing  weak 
places  in  their  defences  and  putting  all  in  readi- 
ness for  the  attack,  which  was  momentarily 
expected.  Besides  this,  there  was  much  shrill 
and  excited  talk,  in  which  women's  voices  bore 
no  small  part. 

The  second  day  dragged  slowly,  seeming  to 
Eugenie  an  endless  time.  When  the  night 
closed  in,  a  sick  fear  possessed  her  that  the 
French  had  contented  themselves  with  the  de- 
struction of  the  two  small  forts,  and  thinking  it 
impossible  to  take  San  Mateo,  had  sailed  away 
and  left  her  to  her  sorry  fate. 

That  day  she  had  been  entirely  forgotten,  and 
not  a  morsel  of  food  was  brought  for  her.  The 
long  fasting  had  reduced  her  spirits  to  the  low- 
est ebb.  She  wept  much  during  the  night,  and 
slept  fitfully,  dreaming  often  of  a  ship  receding 
in  the  distance ;  and  on  its  deck  Pierre's  figure 
sharply  outlined  against  the  evening  sky.  She 
would  wake  to  find  herself  with  arms  out- 
stretched in  the  darkness  calling,  "  Pierre, 
Pierre." 

Each  waking  from  this  vivid  dream  brought 
fresh  tears,  and  it  was  not  until  toward  morning 
that,  utterly  spent,  and  sick  from  hunger,  she  fell 
at  last  into  a  heavy  dreamless  sleep,  from  which 
she  was  aroused  suddenly  by  the  loud  boom  of 
the  culverine  in  the  land  bastion  of  the  Fort. 

So   dazed  was  she  at  first  that  she  did  not 


254  The  Sword  of  Justice 

grasp  its  import,  and  not  until  a  second  roar 
had  belched  forth  on  the  silence  did  she  spring 
to  her  feet  with  eyes  alight,  and  stand  in  the 
middle  of  the  cell,  her  hand  pressed  against  her 
quickly  beating  heart,  her  whole  figure  quiver- 
ing in  her  intent  effort  to  make  her  hearing  tell 
her  what  was  shut  away  from  her  sight. 

She  heard  the  culverines  speak  three  times  in 
all,  then  silence  —  followed  by  the  sound  of 
tramping  feet,  the  little  jingle  and  clatter  of 
harness  and  weapon  —  then  a  long  silence  —  a 
deathlike  silence.  Then,  far  out  on  the  distance, 
came  the  sound  of  a  sharp  volley  —  fired  by 
whose  hands?  Her  ears  could  not  help  her 
here.  Not  until  the  silence  within  the  Fort  gave 
place  to  cries,  shouts,  screams  of  women,  shrill 
frightened  pipings  of  children,  deep-mouthed 
curses  from  men,  heavy  feet,  light  feet,  all  flee- 
ing, all  fear-pressed.  She  was  not  slow  then  to 
understand  that  disaster  had  overtaken  her  foes 
and  that  her  friends  were  near  at  hand. 

Long  she  waited,  still  standing  in  the  middle 
of  the  cell,  still  with  the  intent  listening  look  in 
her  dilated  eyes.  Finally  a  sickening  dread 
began  to  steal  over  her,  that,  locked  away  in 
here  she  might  be  overlooked  even  by  the 
victors  and  left  to  perish  alone,  starving  and 
miserable.  Her  impatience  was  so  intense  that 
she  could  not  realize  how  brief  the  time  which 
had  elapsed  since  the  first  shot  was  fired. 

At  length  she  heard  a  welcome  sound;  the 


The  Sword  of  Justice  255 

key  turned  quickly,  the  door  was  thrust  open. 
So  certain  was  her  heart  as  to  whose  were  the 
oncoming  steps,  before  she  could  distinguish 
more  than  that  it  was  a  man,  the  dearly  loved 
name  had  leaped  to  her  lips !  "  Pierre,"  she 
called,  all  her  heart  in  her  voice. 

It  was  Perez's  frowning  eyes  that  met  her 
eager  gaze,  and  a  grim  look  on  his  handsome 
dark  face  struck  cold  to  her  heart  as  she 
saw  it. 

"  No,  pretty  one,  not  Pierre.  It  is  your  other 
lover,  more  impatient,  who  seeks  you,"  said  he, 
striding  toward  her  and  grasping  her  firmly  in 
his  arms. 

"  Do  not  touch  me,"  screamed  the  girl  strug- 
gling to  free  herself ;  then  seeing  a  look  in  his 
eyes  as  of  an  animal  brought  to  bay,  "What 
would  you  do,  Fernando,"  she  gasped. 

He  smiled,  an  ugly  smile.  "  I  am  starting  on 
a  long  journey,  carisima,  and  since  I  love  you  I 
will  take  you  with  me.  Come,  give  me  a  kiss 
before  we  set  out  on  the  short  road  to  hell." 
Then,  as  the  girl  fought  and  strove  to  keep  her 
face  from  his  contaminating  lips,  he  jeered, 
"  Nay,  never  struggle  so  like  a  helpless  bird;  no 
use  to  keep  your  caresses  for  Pierre.  Ere  he 
comes,  you  will  have  gone  hence  —  with  me." 

He  turned  the  girl's  shrinking  face  toward 
him  by  force,  and  set  a  succession  of  hot  kisses 
on  it,  then  flashing  a  little  dagger  before  her 
eyes  he  said,  "  Never  fear,  my  beauty,  I  must 


256  The  Sword  of  Justice 

send  you  a  bit  ahead  on  this  road,  but  I  will 
catch  you  before  you  have  gone  many  steps." 

An  instant  more  and  the  knife  had  found  a 
warm  sheath  in  that  poor  fluttering  heart.  The 
girl  uttered  no  cry,  her  eyes  were  fastened  on 
the  upraised  weapon  as  if  hypnotized  by  its 
bright  blade. 

"  Fernando  Perez,  what  do  you  here,  when  a 
man's  work  waits  you  without?"  suddenly  de- 
manded Father  Augustine's  voice. 

So  intent  had  the  Spaniard  been  on  his  evil 
work  that  until  the  voice  of  the  priest  startled 
him  he  was  not  aware  of  his  coming.  In  that 
moment  of  surprise  he  partly  loosened  his  hold 
of  Eugenie,  who  made  haste  to  slip  from  his 
grasp.  She  ran  to  the  priest  crying  out  for 
protection.  The  old  man  interposed  himself 
between  the  crouching  girl  and  her  assailant. 

Perez,  a  little  disconcerted  at  this  turn  of 
affairs,  nevertheless  faced  the  priest  with  a  black 
look,  and  some  bravado  in  his  tone.  "  There  is 
a  man's  work  for  me  to  do  here,  Father  Augus- 
tine," he  answered  jeeringly. 

'•  In  God's  name,  man,  what  do  you  mean?  " 
demanded  the  priest.  "  Take  your  sword,  go 
fight  like  a  man.  The  soldiers  have  lost  their 
heads  and  flee  like  sheep  before  the  butcher. 
One  brave  man  may  yet  rally  them.  Go  Perez, 
in  God's  name  go,  and  turn  them  back,"  pleaded 
the  old  man. 

Perez   met  this   impassionate  appeal  with  a 


The  Sword  of  Justice  257 

laugh  of  derision,  "  Too  late ;  the  fight  is  lost, 
and  I,  knowing  that  I  must  take  the  short  road 
to  hell  in  this  hour,  was  making  ready  to  carry 
with  me  this  lusty  wench,  and  so  get  me  a 
better  welcome  of  the  devil,  when  you  inter- 
rupted me  in  so  unmannerly  a  fashion." 

"  What !  would  you  have  killed  the  child," 
exclaimed  the  priest,  horrified  as  much  by  his 
look  and  tone  as  his  words. 

"  Aye,  that  is  what  I  will  do,  kill  the  child," 
he  mimicked.  "  Come,  fool,  stand  aside  ;  time 
presses."  He  took  a  step  forward  and  strove  to 
reach  Eugenie  again.  The  priest  intercepted 
him,  and  with  a  commanding  gesture  bade  him 
stand  back. 

"  Fernando  Perez,  in  the  name  of  the  Holy 
Church  I  command  you  begone  to  your  duties." 

"  Out  upon  the  Holy  Church !  "  exclaimed 
the  man  hotly.  "  Will  the  Church  rescue  me 
from  the  hands  of  these  French  devils?  Will 
the  Holy  Father  at  Rome  perchance  stretch  out 
his  long  arm  and  pluck  me  out  of  danger?  I 
spit  upon  the  Holy  Church.  Stand  out  of  my 
path." 

"  By  the  hope  of  Heaven  from  which  this 
deed  will  forever  shut  you  out,  man,  I  bid  you 
begone,"  again  adjured  the  priest. 

"  My  hopes  of  Heaven !  "    He  gave  a  great 

guffaw  of  laughter.     "Talk  to  me  of  such, —  I 

who   have   murdered,    consorted   with   harlots, 

stolen  my  neighbor's  wife,  and  cheated  at  the 

17 


258  The  Sword  of  Justice 

gaming  table,  a  pretty  Heaven  it  will  be  that 
opens  to  my  knocking.  I  feel  its  warm  breath 
even  now.  Again  I  say,  stand  aside."  Then 
as  the  old  man  made  no  motion  to  heed  him, 
Perez  stamped  with  rage  and  whipped  out  his 
sword.  "  Now,  out  of  the  way  or  take  the  con- 
sequence," he  cried,  the  light  of  murder  in  his 
eyes. 

"  Now  God  forgive  me  that  I  should  be 
moved  to  turn  my  weapon  against  those  of  our 
own  household,  but  there  is  no  help  for  it," 
exclaimed  the  old  man ;  and  for  the  first  time 
Perez  saw  that  a  sword  hung  from  the  priest's 
cincture,  half  concealed  in  the  folds  of  his 
cassock. 

In  an  instant  it  too  had  leaped  from  its  scab- 
bard, and  with  a  fiery  earnestness  the  church- 
man faced  his  antagonist.  Seeing  this,  Perez's 
anger  flamed  up  to  white  heat.  That  an  old 
man,  and  a  priest,  dared  to  stand  in  his  way! 
His  adversary's  very  impotence  seemed  to 
heighten  his  rage. 

"  Out  of  the  way,  you  foolish  old  woman.  I 
have  no  desire  for  your  blood  upon  me,  but  I 
will  not  take  my  unslaked  passion  to  hell,  with- 
out that  French  baggage  goes  with  me." 

"Defend  yourself,  Perez.  Old  woman  you 
may  think  me,  but  before  I  wore  a  cassock, 
spurs  clinked  at  my  heels,  and  a  sword  jingled 
at  my  side.  Try  my  mettle  if  you  doubt  me." 

"Then,  if  you   will   have   it,"   returned   the 


The  Sword  of  Justice  259 

other,  and  with  a  savage  lunge  he  set  on  the 
priest,  who  in  spite  of  his  boast  had  much  ado 
to  defend  himself. 

The  two  men  fought  fiercely,  the  girl  huddled 
down  in  the  corner  too  far  gone  in  fright  to 
make  her  escape  and  summon  help,  too  loyal  to 
go  and  leave  the  old  man  to  his  fate.  Perez  was 
not  long  in  finding  that  his  antagonist's  boast 
had  not  been  without  some  foundation  in  fact, 
for  the  old  fellow  had  been  no  mean  swordsman 
in  his  day,  though  age  and  long  disuse  of  the 
weapon  put  him  at  great  disadvantage. 

When  a  certain  quick  thrust  from  the  priest's 
sword  pierced  Fernando's  arm  in  the  fleshy 
part,  the  sudden  pain  so  angered  him  that  he 
put  forth  all  his  strength  and  drove  his  adver- 
sary back  in  the  corner  of  the  cell,  then  with 
one  deft  thrust  sent  his  weapon  home  in  deadly 
aim. 

Before  he  could  unsheath  it  from  the  priest's 
body,  a  shout,  a  dash  of  hurrying  feet,  a  blow 
on  the  head  from  a  halberd,  and  a  half  dozen 
French  soldiers  thronged  the  little  cell,  Pierre 
in  their  lead ;  and  Perez  had  taken  the  short 
road  to  hell,  and  to  the  welcome  which  he  had 
every  reason  to  anticipate. 


260  The  Sword  of  Justice 


CHAPTER   XXIV 

THE  attack  on  San  Mateo  began  in  the  early 
morning;  by  ten  o'clock  the  Fort  was  captured, 
the  inmates  put  to  the  sword,  and  the  French 
in  possession,  taking  their  ease  after  the  fatigues 
of  the  day. 

It  was,  however,  high  noon  before  Pierre  was 
summoned  into  the  presence  of  Gourgues,  who 
sat  at  a  table  in  the  guard  room  in  deep  con- 
versation with  Casanove.  There  was  no  look 
on  the  melancholy  scholarly  face  to  indicate  the 
slightest  feeling  of  triumph,  but  rather  the 
gravity  of  a  judge,  who  having  pronounced 
sentence  of  death  on  a  criminal  has  but  now 
seen  it  executed. 

He  turned  quickly  at  Pierre's  entrance,  which 
was  almost  simultaneous  with  that  of  Lavalatte, 
who  was  led  into  the  room  from  an  opposite 
doorway.  When  the  young  man  stood  in  front 
of  him  on  the  other  side  of  the  table,  the 
Chevalier  looked  him  over  calmly  an  instant 
before  speaking. 

"  I  have  summoned  you,  Debr6,  to  listen  to 
your  accusation  touching  this  French  prisoner 
who  was  rescued  from  your  hands  this  morning. 


The  Sword  of  Justice  261 

If  you  have  just  cause  for  complaint  against 
him  he  shall  be  executed,  but  I  would  know 
first  if  that  complaint  was  a  private  disagree- 
ment or  if  his  wrong  against  you  is  of  a  graver 
character?  " 

"  Chevalier  de  Gourgues,  there  are  wrongs  so 
great  that  a  man  may  never  utter  them  in  the 
presence  of  another ;  such  an  one  hath  Philippe 
de  Lavalatte  inflicted  upon  me.  Had  you  this 
morn  allowed  me  to  deal  him  the  death  which 
was  so  near  him,  it  had  been  but  an  act  of 
justice  in  the  eyes  of  God  and  man,  but  since 
this  may  not  be  I  ask  now  only  that  I  may  meet 
my  enemy  fairly.  It  shall  be  a  duel  to  the 
death,  for  both  of  us  cannot  remain  on  this 
earth." 

"  And  you,"  said  Gourgues  turning  to  the 
prisoner,  who  had  stood  since  his  entrance  with 
downcast  look  and  pale  face,  "  you  have  heard 
this  man's  words  ;  what  have  you  to  answer? 
Has  he  just  cause  of  complaint  against  you?  " 

Lavalatte  raised  his  sombre  eyes  an  instant, 
they  met  the  clear,  fearless  ones  of  Pierre ;  then, 
unable  to  bear  the  glance,  fell  again.  "  I  accept 
his  challenge ;  I  will  fight  him  when  and  wherever 
he  wishes,"  he  answered  in  a  low  tone.  "  It 
shall  be  to  the  death." 

"  As  to  time  and  place,  now  is  the  only  time ; 
anywhere  outside  the  Fort  gates  will  serve  as 
fitting  place,"  answered  Pierre  quickly. 

Glancing  from  one  to  the  other  of  these  two, 


262  The  Sword  of  Justice 

something  in  the  clear-eyed  righteous  look  of 
the  younger  man  struck  an  answering  chord  in 
Gourgues.  It  was  with  a  new  tone,  a  little  note 
of  respect  in  his  voice  that  he  said,  turning  to 
Pierre,  "  If  you  will  permit  me,  Monsieur  Debre, 
I  will  act  as  your  second  in  this  affair  while 
Lieutenant  Casanove  does  the  like  for  your 
antagonist.  The  choice  of  weapons,  I  believe, 
lies  with  us;  what  say  you  Casanove?"  He 
turned  to  the  young  lieutenant  who  was  already 
unbinding  the  arms  of  Lavalatte,  rubbing  and 
working  them  to  restore  the  arrested  circulation. 

The  lieutenant  nodded  assent.  "  But  I  pro- 
test, on  behalf  of  my  principal,  this  duel  should 
not  go  forward  until  the  stiffness  has  passed  from 
his  arms.  His  wrist  can  have  no  dexterity  after 
having  been  securely  bound  for  several  hours." 

It  was  Lavalatte  himself  who  met  this  protest. 
"  Nay,  I  do  not  wish  to  wait.  I  am  more  than 
a  match  for  the  boy  even  so.  Let  the  matter 
go  forward." 

Gourgues  turned  anxiously  to  Pierre.  "  Have 
you  then  any  knowledge  of  sword  practice?  " 

"  As  a  lad  I  had  fair  use  of  the  weapon,  but 
my  hand  has  not  clasped  a  sword-hilt  since  two 
years  and  a  half;  "  then,  seeing  the  look  of 
concern  upon  his  second's  face,  he  smiled 
reassuringly.  "  Never  fear,  Sir  Dominique,  the 
justice  of  my  cause  will  be  at  once  my  weapon 
and  my  defence." 

A  little  time  was  then  taken  up  by  the  seconds, 


The  Sword  of  Justice  263 

in  selecting  swords  from  the  pile  which  had 
been  deposited  in  the  guard  room.  They 
tried  the  temper  of  many,  bending  them  in 
their  hands  and  testing  them  with  points  to 
the  floor.  Having  selected  two,  these  were 
carefully  measured  and  found  to  be  exactly 
of  a  length.  When  all  was  in  readiness,  four 
men  tramped  across  the  sunlit  parade  which 
still  showed  evidence  of  the  morning's  carnage, 
four  men  passed  out  of  the  Fort  gate  and  sought 
the  open  beyond,  where  the  dead  still  lay  un- 
touched and  unattended,  in  attitudes  of  ghastly 
abandon ;  and  each  of  the  four  knew  that  only 
three  would  return,  that  one  more  body  was  to 
take  its  place  on  the  field  of  the  dead. 

The  sun  was  just  above  them  in  the  heavens, 
and  there  was  therefore  no  choice  of  positions. 
It  was  a  bad  hour  to  fight,  for  the  blinding  light 
on  the  bright  weapons  would  dazzle  the  steadiest 
eyes,  but  at  least  the  disadvantage  was  to  both 
alike,  and  there  was  that  in  the  countenance  of 
each  man  which  forbade  any  suggestion  of 
waiting. 

While  the  seconds  arranged  the  few  pre- 
liminaries of  place,  a  crowd  of  curious  In- 
dians and  idle  soldiers,  seeing  that  some- 
thing unusual  was  going  forward,  sought  the 
spot,  and,  some  standing,  some  squatting, 
made  a  wide  circle  around  the  combatants. 

At  length  the  two  men  faced  each  other 
weapon  in  hand,  Pierre  naked  except  for  the 


264  The  Sword  of  Justice 

belt  and  aziam,  Lavalatte  stripped  to  the  waist 
wearing  only  his  trunks  and  high  leather  leg- 
gins.  On  the  face  of  the  older  man  lay  a  look 
of  contempt  for  the  crude  boyish  strength  of 
his  opponent,  the  younger  wore  a  look  of  such 
dauntless  courage  it  was  as  if  he  felt  himself 
invincible. 

At  length  their  swords  crossed,  and  the  bright 
light  dancing  on  the  quickly  moving  blades,  the 
clank  of  steel  against  steel  was  all  that  broke 
the  breathless  silence,  while  the  intent  onlookers 
waited  the  issue.  Both  men  were  fighting  with 
a  grim  determination  which  promised  no  quarter. 
Pierre's  strength  was  the  greater,  but  he  lacked 
the  dexterity  which  long  years  of  use  had 
given  his  antagonist.  Nevertheless,  Lavalatte 
found  himself  obliged  to  watch  his  guard 
carefully,  for  already  his  enemy  had  broken 
it  down  once,  and  pricked  a  tiny  spot,  which 
was  bleeding  slightly,  just  over  the  heart. 
Pierre  ever  conscious  of  that  little  wound, 
fought  on  coolly,  keeping  the  red  mark  ever 
before  him  as  the  spot  for  his  final  thrust. 

Lavalatte  was  trying  not  to  see  the  face  of 
the  boy,  which  ever  and  again  seemed  to  change 
and  become,  to  his  haunted  mind,  the  face  of  a 
woman  with  scorning  eyes  and  defiant  mien,  but 
try  as  he  would,  he  could  not  shut  it  away.  It 
was  all  he  could  do  to  shake  off  the  creeping, 
superstitious  fear,  which  threatened  to  turn  him 
craven. 


The  Sword  of  Justice  265 

His  opponent  was  weakening,  was  giving  back 
step  by  step.  Layalatte  redoubled  the  attack, 
pressing  upon  him  with  all  his  might,  rendered 
a  little  reckless  by  his  nearness  to  victory. 

It  was  that  instant  of  unguarded  recklessness 
for  which  Pierre  had  watched  and  planned,  and 
now  his  sword  thrusts  forward  in  a  mighty  lunge 
toward  the  bright  red  goal  over  the  heart. 

Ere  he  had  touched  his  adversary,  he  heard 
a  yell  of  pain,  he  saw  Lavalatte's  figure  leap 
into  the  air  and  fall  crashing  to  the  earth,  an 
Indian  arrow  buried  deep  in  the  little  blood 
red  wound  over  the  heart. 

A  murmur  of  amazement  ran  over  the  crowd. 
"The  Master  of  Breath  has  done  this  thing," 
exclaimed  the  superstitious  Indians,  looking  up 
at  the  sky  in  awe. 

Then  the  limbs  of  a  tree  near  by  began  to  shake 
and  bend,  and  at  last  dropped  their  heavy 
burden,  and  Athore  stood  with  gleaming  eyes 
and  triumphant  look  before  them.  Running  to 
Pierre's  side,  he  exclaimed  in  loving  tone 
which  pleaded  for  commendation,  "  T  was  I, 
Chepane,  even  I,  your  brother;  I  feared  lest 
your  arm  was  growing  weak  and  he  would 
slay  you." 

As  for  poor  Pierre,  who  saw  his  vengeance 
snatched  from  his  hand  in  the  instant  of  its 
satisfaction,  it  was  more  than  his  youthful  spirit 
could  patiently  bear.  For  a  moment  he  stamped 
the  earth,  inarticulate  with  rage.  He  was  even 


266  The  Sword  of  Justice 

forced  to  bury  his  face  in  his  hands  to  conceal 
the  tears  of  wrath  which  came  unbidden  to  his 
eyes.  While  he  stood  so,  raging  over  his  balked 
revenge,  before  him  another  scene  unrolled  it- 
self, a  lonely  forest  scene,  and  the  white  face  of 
a  dying  woman,  and  again  he  heard  the  words 
which  his  hot  youth  had  taught  him  to  forget 
"  Vengeance  is  mine,  saith  the  Lord,  I  will  re- 
pay." 


The  Sword  of  Justice  267 


XXV 

IN  the  cell  where  both  Pierre  and  Eugenie  had 
been  prisoners,  a  dim  rushlight  flared  and  flick- 
ered in  the  darkness.  On  the  bed  in  the  corner 
the  old  priest  was  breathing  out  his  little  span 
of  life  in  painful  breaths.  From  the  instant 
when  he  had  been  tenderly  raised  from  the 
floor,  where  Perez's  sword-thrust  had  put  him, 
and  borne  to  the  bed,  Eugenie  had  not  left 
him.  She  had  bound  up  his  wound  and  tried 
to  stanch  the  blood,  but  even  her  small  knowl- 
edge of  surgery  told  her  that  there  was  no  hope 
for  the  old  man.  None  knew  better  than  Father 
Augustine  himself  that  life  was  fast  drawing  to  a 
close,  and  he  did  not  sorrow  at  this  knowledge, 
but  accepted  his  summons  with  the  joy  of  a  ser- 
vant who  knows  he  has  been  faithful,  if  erring, 
and  who  trusts  in  the  goodness  of  a  Master  that 
has  a  deep  understanding  of  the  weaknesss  of 
poor  humanity. 

When,  on  returning  to  consciousness,  he  found 
Eugenie  bending  over  him,  weeping,  he  gathered 
strength  to  console  her,  while  a  gentle,  whimsi- 
cal smile  struggled  to  curve  his  poor,  pain-drawn 
lips. 


268  The  Sword  of  Justice 

"  Never  grieve  so,  child  ;  it  is  much  better 
thus.  Death  was  to  be  to-day ;  what  matters  it 
whether  a  Spanish  sword  or  a  French  dealt  the 
blow?  It  comforts  me  to  feel  that  my  going 
availed  to  save  your  life." 

But  to  this  her  young  and  rebellious  spirit 
would  not  accede.  "They  would  not  have 
killed  you,  Pere  Augustine  ;  I  would  not  have 
let  them.  I  would  have  told  them  how  good 
you  have  always  been  to  us,  and  that  you  had 
not  been  here  nor  borne  any  part  in  that  other 
awful  time.  I  could  have  saved  you,  I  know  I 
could,"  she  protested,  breaking  out  into  fresh 
sobs  at  the  thought. 

The  old  man  only  closed  his  eyes,  too  weak 
and  weary  to  contend  with  her.  After  a  time 
he  opened  them  again ;  a  new  thought  stirring 
in  his  fast  dulling  brain.  Taking  the  girl's  hand 
in  his  he  fixed  his  eyes  upon  her  face  and  de- 
manded sharply,  "  Child,  now  that  all  this  de- 
struction has  fallen,  what  comes  to  you,  where 
do  you  go?  " 

"  With  Pierre,  back  to  France,  and  away  from 
this  land  of  blood,"  she  answered,  her  gladness 
sounding  even  through  her  tears. 

"  Yes,  yes,  it  must  be  so,  it  must  be  so  ;  there 
is  no  other  way  —  and  yet  —  I  fear  for  you  —  " 
he  spoke  softly  as  if  to  himself  rather  than  to  her. 

"  I  have  no  fear,  Father,  I  will  be  with  Pierre," 
she  answered,  infinite  pride  and  infinite  trust 
struggling  for  mastery  in  her  young  voice. 


The  Sword  of  Justice  269 

"  Yes,  yes,"  continued  the  old  man,  still  as  if 
talking  to  himself,  "  it  must  be  ;  there  is  no  other 
way."  Then  with  sudden  sharp  decision  in  his 
tone  he  commanded,  "  Go  at  once,  send  the  lad 
to  me  quickly.  I  desire  to  speak  with  him." 

Prompt  to  hear  and  understand  the  tone  of 
authority,  Eug6nie  rose  instantly  to  do  his  bid- 
ding, and  passing  out  of  the  cell  into  the  room 
beyond,  was  groping  her  way  to  the  open  door 
about  to  slip  out  on  the  parade  in  search  of 
Pierre,  when  her  foot  stumbled  against  some- 
thing yielding  which  lay  directly  across  the 
opening.  It  stirred,  rose  up,  and  suddenly  re- 
solved itself  into  the  object  of  her  search. 

"What  is  it,  beloved,  what  do  you  wish?" 
questioned  Pierre,  eagerly  clasping  the  warm 
little  hand  which  even  in  the  dimness  he  had 
managed  to  find.  "  I  have  been  keeping  watch 
here  lest  you  need  me  or  any  try  to  harm  you." 
The  terror  of  the  morning,  of  her  nearness  to 
death,  had  left  him  shaken  and  fearful. 

"  Come  quickly,  he  wishes  you,"  was  all  she 
gave  herself  time  to  answer,  and  straightway  led 
him  to  the  side  of  the  dying  man.  A  look  of 
satisfaction  flitted  into  the  old  face  at  the  prompt 
answer  to  his  summons,  for  he  knew  well  there 
was  no  time  to  be  lost.  He  fixed  a  searching 
glance  on  the  face  of  the  youth  who  knelt  be- 
side him,  "'My  son,  this  child  has  no  protector 
in  all  the  world  save  your  honour.  She  has 
been  with  you  many  days,  far  from  here.  How 


2  /o  The  Sword  of  Justice 

have  you  dealt  with  her?  As  the  law  of  man 
and  the  word  of  God  command?"  questioned 
the  priest  solemnly,  seeming  to  search  the  in- 
most soul  of  the  lad  with  his  keen  old  eyes. 

Pierre  raised  his  head  and  met  the  look, 
truth  and  purity  written  large  on  his  face. 
"  As  God  hears  me,  yes,"  he  answered  proudly. 

The  priest's  feeble  hand  sought  his  head  as 
if  in  benediction.  "  It  is  well,"  he  murmured 
with  a  soft  sigh  of  satisfaction.  "  I  have  pon- 
dered this  question  and  see  my  duty  at  last,  the 
Virgin  be  praised.  This  state  of  things  must 
not  continue  longer,  lest  you  fail  in  strength  to 
go  on  as  you  have  begun.  The  Holy  Church 
will  condemn  my  act,  but  God — my  God  — 
He  will  understand."  With  a  motion  of  his 
hand  he  summoned  the  girl  to  his  side.  She 
knelt  beside  her  lover,  both  young  faces  wear- 
ing a  look  of  awe,  neither  understanding  what 
was  happening. 

"  Pierre  and  Eugenie,"  he  asked  solemnly, 
"is  it  your  desire  to  become  man  and  wife?" 
For  an  instant  they  turned  toward  each  other  and 
their  look  made  their  brief  assent  unnecessary. 

Joining  their  hands,  the  priest  began  the  mar- 
riage ceremony  of  the  Roman  church,  his  words 
coming  rapidly  and  painfully,  every  necessary 
act  and  movement  full  of  haste.  It  was  evident 
that  he  felt  the  white  silence  of  death  coming 
near,  and  feared  to  have  it  grasp  him  before 
his  self-imposed  task  was  finished. 


The  Sword  of  Justice  271 

As  for  those  two  kneeling  at  his  side,  hearing 
the  words  which  bound  them  together  for  life, 
they  were  scarcely  yet  able  to  grasp  the  mean- 
ing of  the  act. 

When  the  priest  had  breathed  the  last  hur- 
ried word,  he  seemed  to  have  exhausted  his 
little  reserve  of  strength,  and  to  have  gone 
out  of  life  in  finishing  that  last  act  of  duty. 
But  death  had  not  come  yet,  and  later  he  re- 
vived, though  he  spoke  only  once  or  twice  in 
the  hour  that  remained.  After  a  time  Eug6- 
nie's  watchful  eye  saw  that  one  hand  seemed 
to  be  vainly  groping  at  his  side,  and  guessing 
his  wish  she  found  the  wooden  crucifix  hidden 
in  the  folds  of  his  cassock,  and  placed  it  be- 
tween his  fingers.  He  held  it  before  him,  but 
darkness  had  already  fallen  on  his  wide-open 
eyes.  His  feeble  fingers  began  to  pass,  as  the 
fingers  of  the  blind,  over  each  curve  and  angle 
of  the  sacred  emblem,  and  a  soft  smile  was 
slowly  making  way  on  his  face,  against  the 
hard  drawn  lines  of  pain. 

"Father,  into  thy  hands  — "  he  whispered 
softly.  The  white  fingers  relaxed,  the  crucifix 
fell  to  his  breast  making  a  sharp  little  clatter 
against  the  rosary,  the  hands  dropped  softly  — 
and  Father  Augustine  rested. 

At  length  peace  had  fallen  over  the  earth 
once  more.  The  bright  flaring  fires  of  the 
Indians  had  died  to  ash-covered  coals.  No 


272  The  Sword  of  Justice 

longer  the  harsh  note  of  the  tawaiegons  or  the 
ear-splitting  whoops  of  the  triumphing  savages 
tore  through  the  silence,  making  havoc  with 
the  quiet.  They  slept  —  as  slept  Dominique  de 
Gourgues,  in  satisfied  vengeance,  the  Sword  of 
Justice  returned  to  its  scabbard. 

Hiding  her  eyes  against  her  husband's  breast 
to  shut  away  the  sights  ever  before  them,  the 
thronging  horrors  of  the  day,  at  last  slept 
Eugenie  also,  while  with  cold  hands  clasped 
on  his  breast  over  the  emblem  of  his  faith, 
Father  Augustine  slept  more  serenely  than 
any. 

Outside,  the  pine  branches  kept  up  their 
ceaseless,  deep-breathed  sighing,  and  the  soft 
night  wind  stirred  twelve  bodies  to  a  ghastly 
unison  of  motion.  Again  this  tree  of  death 
had  budded,  blossomed,  and  now  hung  heavy 
with  its  awful  fruitage.  In  the  dim  moonlight, 
the  legend  on  the  board  fastened  to  the  tree 
read,  "Not  as  to  Catholics,  but  as  to  robbers 
and  murderers." 


The  Sword  of  Justice  273 


CHAPTER  XXVI 

NOTHING  remains  to  be  told  of  this  tale,  which 
has  reached  its  finish,  except  of  the  sorrowful 
leave-taking  of  Pierre  and  the  Indians,  who 
mourned  his  going  as  truly  as  if  he  were  in- 
deed one  of  them. 

Before  the  French  and  Indians  marched 
from  San  Mateo,  they  thoroughly  destroyed 
the  place,  but  not  until  after  a  little  group  of 
sincere  mourners  had  reverently  laid  Father 
Augustine's  body  in  a  grave  close  beside  that 
of  Eugenie's  father  on  the  sunny  hillside.  A 
rude  cross,  with  its  hasty  carving,  was  set  at  the 
head  of  the  grave ;  "  Pere  Augustine "  is  all 
that  it  bears.  What  need  of  more,  when  an 
everlasting  record  in  the  heart  of  God  holds 
the  roll  of  his  good  deeds. 

In  a  rudely  constructed  litter  swung  between 
two  saplings,  Eugenie  was  borne  by  four  of  the 
Indians  during  the  homeward  march  back  to 
the  Tacatacourou.  Pierre  walked  close  at  her 
side,  his  hand  clasping  hers  most  of  the  time, 
for  she  had  grown  strangely  fearful  since  her 
late  experience.  Often,  as  the  man  gazed  into 
the  wide-open  eyes  which  still  seemed  to  look 
18 


2  74  The  Sword  of  Justice 

on  scenes  of  horror,  he  longed  for  the  moment 
when  merciful  time  would  have  dimmed  a  little 
the  sharpness  of  these  mental  pictures,  and 
restored  to  the  girl  some  of  the  merry  light- 
heartedness  that  now  seemed  gone  beyond  recall. 

When  the  actual  hour  of  parting  came,  the 
Indians  grouped  about  the  young  Frenchman 
and  refused  to  be  comforted,  while,  as  to  Sat- 
ouriona,  his  old  heart,  as  he  said  again  and 
again,  "was  lying  in  the  dust."  However 
much  he  grieved,  he  did  not  as  did  Olotoraca 
and  Athore,  strive  to  persuade  Pierre  to  remain. 
He  realized  that  the  going  was  inevitable.  It 
was  all  a  part  of  Helmacarpa's  prophecy;  the 
taking  of  a  white  squaw,  the  coming  of  the  great 
chief  who  would  give  them  vengeance  on  their 
enemies,  Chepane's  going.  He  dared  not  at- 
tempt to  stay  its  complete  fulfilment  lest  the 
Master  of  Breath,  who  had  decreed  these  things, 
be  angered,  and  send  sorrow  on  the  tribe. 

So  while  the  others  crowded  about  the  youth, 
bringing  of  their  choicest ;  buckskin  leggins  and 
shirts,  bows  and  quivers,  headpieces  of  feathers 
and  claw  necklaces,  Satouriona  said  no  word  of 
staying,  but  added  to  the  gifts  a  beautiful  wam- 
pum belt,  in  whose  design  was  woven  two  rude 
figures  clasping  hands.  It  was  such  a  belt  as 
he  would  use  to  ratify  a  strong  treaty  with 
another  tribe,  and  he  meant  it  so  to  bind  him 
to  the  people  of  his  adopted  son. 


The  Sword  of  Justice  275 

On  the  stern  of  one  of  the  vessels,  Pierre  and 
Eugenie  stood  looking  back  along  the  length- 
ening wake  toward  the  fast  receding  shore. 
All  the  heavens  were  aglow  with  the  gorgeous 
light  of  a  clearing  sky,  and  setting  sun.  Great 
streaks  of  crimson  lit  up  the  clouds  and  tinged 
all  the  water  below.  Pierre  felt  a  little  shudder 
pass  over  the  girl ;  as  he  drew  her  close  he 
questioned  tenderly,  "  What  troubles  you,  be- 
loved?" 

"  It  is  all  blood-red  everywhere  in  this  cruel 
world,"  answered  Eugenie  sorrowfully,  her  eyes 
gazing  still  on  the  red  glow  of  color. 

"Nay,  sweetheart,  look  this  way,  the  future 
lies  fair  before  us,"  and  he  turned  the  sweet 
face  to  the  east  where  all  the  gorgeous  bright- 
ness of  the  west  faintly  touched  cloud  and  sea 
to  tender  pinks  and  greens,  while  from  horizon 
to  horizon  in  an  almost  unbroken  arch,  a  bow 
of  promise  stretched.  Sailing  away  under  this 
arch  of  hope,  they  are  lost  to  our  eyes  as  well 
as  those  of  the  watching  Indians. 


I  am  the  King 


Being  the  Account  of  Some  Happenings  in 
the  Life  of  Godfrey  de  Bersac,  Crusader 
Knight.  By  Sheppard  Stevens,  author  of 
"The  Sword  of  Justice."  i6mo.  Cloth, 
extra.  $1.25. 

A  fresh  and  invigorating  piece  of  reading.  —  Nashville 
American. 

A  story  of  the  Crusades  in  which  three  persons  take  up 
a  stirring  narrative  and  work  out  a  plot  of  much  invention. 

—  Philadelphia  Times. 

Characterized  by  those  graceful  touches  which  belong  to 
true  and  pure  romanticism.  .  .  .  Very  much  of  the  charm- 
ing effect  of  the  story  lies  in  its  archaic  setting  and  the 
symmetry  of  the  author's  style.  — Boston  Herald. 

Admirably  reflects  the  manner  and  speech  of  the  period  and 
holds  our  interest  from  the  start.  —  Philadelphia  Bulletin. 

A  story  of  love  and  adventure  sweetly  told.  It  has  the 
straightforwardness  of  the  old-time  story-teller.  —  St.  Louis 
Globe-Democrat. 

One  of  the  few  recent  historical  novels  which  show  the 
literary  touch  and  distinct  charm  of  style.  —  Boston  Tran- 
script. 

One  incident  crowds  upon  another  with  unfailing  power. 

—  Art  Interchange. 

For  a  certain  savor  of  courtliness,  for  its  depiction  of  a 
gracious  womanhood,  and  as  a  well-balanced  picture  of  a 
picturesque  period,  the  story  is  distinctly  one  of  the  best 
among  recent  novels.  —  Brooklyn  Times. 

Sheppard  Stevens  has  the  gift  of  style,  and  his  quaint, 
archaic  use  of  English  gives  this  novel  its  chief  charm.  — 
Literary  World. 

The  romantic  Middle  Ages  were  never  more  successfully 
drawn  upon.  —  Los  Angeles  Herald. 


TTbe  Kingfs  Frenchman 

A  Chronicle  of  the  Sixteenth  Century. 
Brought  to  light  and  edited  by  William 
Henry  Johnson.  i2mo.  Cloth,  extra,  gilt 
top.  $1.50. 

A  capital  story  of  the  sixteenth  century.  —  Philadelphia 
Press. 

As  a  novel  it  is  a  distinct  success.  As  a  picture  of  the 
Court  of  Navarre,  and  of  the  soldierings  and  gallantries  of 
that  nowise  impeccable  champion  of  French  Protestant- 
ism, nothing  better  has  been  recently  published.  —  The 
Spectator,  London. 

\Ve  close  the  book  reluctantly.  The  hours  spent  in 
reading  the  "King's  Henchman"  were  richly  rewarded. — 
Atlanta  Constitution. 

What  is  more  noticeable  than  the  interest  of  the  story 
itself  is  Mr.  Johnson's  intuitive  insight  and  thorough  under- 
standing of  the  period.  While  the  book  is  Weyman  in 
vigorous  activity,  it  is  Dumas  in  its  brilliant  touches  of 
romanticism.  —  Boston  Herald. 

Mr.  Johnson  has  caught  the  spirit  of  the  period,  and  has 
painted  in  Henry  of  Navarre  a  truthful  and  memorable 
historical  portrait.  —  The  Mail  and  Express,  New  York. 

Deserves  a  place  among  the  best  historical  novels  of  recent 
issue.  It  reflects  the  author's  thorough  knowledge  of  the 
times.  —  Milwaukee  Evening  Wisconsin. 

Written  in  a  singularly  engaging  manner.  — New  York 
Times. 

Every  page  is  one  of  action  to  the  end  of  the  story. 
There  is  good  fighting  under  Henry  of  Navarre,  brilliant 
exploits  by  Jean,  his  "  henchman,"  and  a  lively  love  story. 
—  Public  Opinion. 

Mr.  Johnson  has  given  us  a  stirring  and  well-written 
semi-historical  romance  of  the  sixteenth  century,  which 
will  be  heartily  approved.  —  Philadelphia  Bulletin. 


King  or  Knave,  gtbicb  glins  ? 

An  Old  Tale  of  Huguenot  Days.  Edited 
by  William  Henry  Johnson.  With  four 
illustrations  by  Clyde  O.  De  Land.  ismo. 
Cloth,  extra.  $1.50. 

This  is  a  sequel  to  the  author's  successful  romance  of  the 
time  of  Henry  of  Navarre,  entitled  "The  King's  Hench- 
man." Much  of  its  interest  centres  in  the  personality  of 
the  famous  Gabrielle  d'Estrees  and  the  efforts  of  Henry  of 
Navarre  to  obtain  possession  of  the  throne  of  France. 
Important  characters  of  "The  King's  Henchman"  are 
introduced. 

The  author  has  caught  the  spirit  of  French  romanticism, 
and  it  is  felt  in  this  story  very  much  as  one  feels  it  in  the 
work  of  the  elder  Dumas.  —  Chicago  Record. 

He  has  a  pleasant  way  of  mingling  history  and  ro- 
mance. —  Providence  'Telegram. 

Full  of  romantic  love  and  of  heroic  adventure,  and  it  has 
a  strong  historic  background.  .  .  .  The  interest  in  the  tale 
is  cumulative,  and  towards  the  close  of  the  book  intense.  — 
Literary  World,  Boston. 

Contains  an  interesting  recital  of  some  of  the  most  stir- 
ring events  in  the  history  of  France.  —  The  Chautauquan. 

Written  in  a  delightfully  interesting  style,  and  possesses 
merit  that  will  add  materially  to  the  popularity  of  its  author. 
—  Milwaukee  Tribune. 

Distinctly  readable.  If  history  could  be  taught  in  this 
fashion  now  it  would  become  worth  while.  —  Time  and 
the  Hour. 

His  romantic  portraiture  of  life  in  Huguenot  days  is 
masterly.  —  Courier,  Boston. 

Well  told  and  full  of  spirit,  and  certainly  deserves  the 
popularity  that  may  be  predicted  for  it.  —  Ne<w  York  Com- 
mercial Advertiser. 


Ftessan,  a  f  ellab 


A  Romance  of  Palestine.     By  Henry  Gill- 
man.     Crown  8vo.     Cloth,  gilt  top.     $2.00. 

A  biblical,  patriarchal,  pastoral  spirit  pervades  it.  Indeed, 
the  whole  book  is  saturated  with  the  author's  reverence  for 
the  Holy  Land,  its  legends,  traditions,  glory,  misery,  —  its 
romance,  in  a  word,  and  its  one  supreme  glory,  the  impress 
of  the  Chosen  of  God  and  of  the  master  who  walked  among 
them.  —  The  Independent. 

The  hero  of  "  Hassan,  a  Fellah,"  will  be  a  revelation 
even  to  those  who  carry  their  ethnological  studies  beyond  the 
realm  of  fiction.  —  The  New  York  Times. 

Mr.  Gillman  has  certainly  opened  up  a  new  field  of  fic- 
tion. The  book  is  a  marvel  of  power,  acute  insight,  and 
clever  manipulation  of  thoroughly  grounded  truths.  There 
is  no  question  that  it  lives  and  breathes,  from  its  tortuous 
love  passages  to  its  most  horrible  cruelties.  The  story  is  as 
much  of  a  giant  in  fiction  as  its  hero  is  among  men.  — 
Boston  Herald. 

He  has  opened  a  field  which  is  substantially  new  to  readers 
of  our  tongue  ;  he  has  shown  intimate  knowledge  of  all  the 
conditions  of  life  in  Jerusalem  and  in  the  country  districts  of 
Palestine  ;  he  exhibits  clear  insight  into  traits  of  human 
character  in  a  society  utterly  at  variance  with  all  Western 
social  and  political  conditions.  —  Chicago  Chronicle. 

The  impression  made  by  reading  the  book  is  like  that  of 
witnessing  a  great  play,  its  scenes  are  so  vivid,  its  characters 
so  real,  its  surrounding  horizon  so  picturesque,  its  setting 
so  rich  and  varied.  —  Philadelphia  Item. 

One  of  the  most  remarkable  books  of  the  year.  The 
writer  has  conferred  an  inestimable  benefit  upon  readers  of 
the  English  language,  not  only  to  scholars  and  lovers  of 
history,  but  also  to  readers  of  purely  fictitious  works.  — 
Jersey  City  Evening  Journal. 

In  many  respects  a  remarkable  book,  an  idyll  of  simple, 
heroic,  national  manhood.  —  The  Mail  and  Fxpress,  New 
York. 


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